


Of Dust and Ashes

by RedKitsune



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arson, Car Accidents, Child Death, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Dark fic, Dead Babies, Dead People, Economics, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Miscarriage, Moving On, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, OC centered, Original Character(s), Post-Apocalypse, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Ronin Clint Barton, Slow Burn, eventual clint barton/oc, government collapse, hopeless, if its a trigger it's probably in here, looooong fic, takes a bit for clint to come into the story, what happens after the snap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 103,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKitsune/pseuds/RedKitsune
Summary: Like so many others, Deanna had expected Wednesday the 24th of July to pass just like any other day. She had spent the morning preparing her children for summer school and planning Aurora’s birthday party. And then her life shattered around her. While it was near impossible to wrap her head around it, all around the universe, beings and creatures alike were grappling with a loss they had no time to begin to understand, yet the only option was to move forward or die.This is the story of the five years between the event that would become known as The Decimation and it’s undoing. This is a story of death, loss, gain and love. This is a story of survival in a world where the rules changed overnight. This is the untold story of the world after and the true cost of the Decimation that Marvel was too cowardly to explore. Follows the Events of Endgame however disregards the way Far From Home presents the state of the world.





	1. Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: This series is heavy as a whole. I am not one who turns my nose up at putting warnings but I am very reluctant to call them ‘trigger warnings’. This series can at times be triggering. Please read with caution and at a pace that is comfortable for you. You'll find each chapter- should it include something I feel could be upsetting, will include warnings as needed, though sometimes will be vague in order to protect the plot. This series moves in waves, with the first 10 or so chapters containing a lot of potentially upsetting material before things settle down for 10 or so chapters then we see a upswing in the angst/upsetting material again. Expect the trend to continue through the life of the series. We're looking at a long road ahead of us, five years is a lot of time to cover.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Death, auto accidents, death of children, fire
> 
> Updates on Fridays. Please note- This is largely the OC's story and it takes a good while for the OC and Clint to make it together.

Chapter 1: Just another day

“For the last time- Get up! Get dressed! Get moving!” Deanna yelled down the short hall toward her children’s shared bedroom, the light still off in the room and curtains still clothes.

She didn’t dare go farther for fear of burning the pancakes that would be their breakfast. That was assuming they got up with enough time to eat, otherwise it was a school provided cold breakfast for them that morning and she would be eating three servings of pancakes on her own. Tasty but not a great way to continue losing the weight she had been fighting off since she had left their father and reclaimed her life.

There was some sort of inhuman grumbling coming from the room followed by a few thuds and some clearer complaining. Good, the children were up. Rushing back to the kitchen, she resisted the urge to slide along the hardwood floors in her socks. With her luck Aurora or Frankie would catch her. It had taken months of lecturing about busted skulls to get the two of them to stop sliding around the house in their socks when they had first purchased the simple ranch style home.

It wasn’t large by any means with it’s two bedrooms and shared bath but it did the job far better than the one bedroom apartment they had shared for the last year. Deanna’s husband kicked her and the children out of their home, divorce papers tacked to the door and locks changed when they got home from school pickup in the afternoon. That morning was the last time she had seen Justin and it had seemed like any other morning. He couldn’t even be bothered to show up to the hearings for custody.

It took a year of hard work and some luck to make it to where she was but life was finally looking up. Flipping the last pancake, she looked out over the space. The floor plan was open, just like she had wanted though small. It made it easy to see the children most of the time. Large windows flooded the space with early morning light as the children stumbled half asleep out of the hall.

Deanna switched off the TV from in the living room. She’d been listening to news reports of the destruction in New York City the day prior. Such stories had become almost common place in a way. The Avengers were always there and would right the wrongs as they always did, though sometimes making a bit of a mess of things. Tony Stark had done a lot to shift and change his bad boy image and supplemented state and federal disaster relief. This event was no different than any of the countless others. She was sure of it.

“Good Morning. You wouldn’t be so tired if you didn’t stay up so late reading.”

Deanna set a plate out on the breakfast bar for each child as they sat on the stools. The space wasn’t big enough for a proper dinning set but she didn’t mind. Aurora’s hair was brushed and put into what she assumed was intended to be a bun. Poor thing was too tired to get it right and it hung limply off the back of her head.

“I let you do it this time so you could see what happens if you don’t get enough sleep. Next time there will be additional consequences. Got it?”

“Yes Mum.” Two voices rang out, flat and tired. Deanna nodded, marking the issue closed for the day.

~~~~~<3

With hair fixed and uniforms on, Deanna walked the children to the bus stop. It was a warm July morning and many kids were off for summer vacation. That wasn’t the case for Aurora and Frankie. One of the few things their father continued to pay for was their private school education. It was in session year around, offering maintenance instruction to prevent the students from forgetting what they had learned in addition to special interest classes during the summer months. It was a lifesaver for working parents like her who would otherwise have had to pay for childcare.

The sun was shinning off the kids’ nearly black hair and the weather was warm. Green grass sparkled with morning dew still on the blades. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and Deanna had plans to take the kids to the beach after school let out since she had the day off. The weather was going to be perfect for it. With enough sunblock, hopefully they could all avoid burns.

With kisses and hugs given, they lined up for the bus. They had never been jealous of kids who had the summers off and she had forever been thankful for that. They had smiles on their faces as they boarded the bus, Deanna would always remember that. They had loved going to that school.

She got into her car and drove down the peaceful streets, meeting up with the bus and stopping next to it at the light, like she had done so many times before. Behind her, a small compact call crashed into a mailbox and she honestly didn’t think anything of it. People sometimes made mistakes, it happens. Yet, in her rear view mirror it almost looked as if the car was empty. Such a thought was crazy however and couldn’t be right. It was put right out of her mind before she could really even examine the thought.

The bus driver offered a wave and a smile that she gladly returned as he waited on the green arrow. Like in may areas nationwide, school buses here didn’t make right hand turns on red lights regardless of how slow the traffic was. Every Wednesday she sat at the light next to the school bus waiting. There was no reason why this morning had to be anything more than just another day. It should have been just another day.

The arrow turned green and through the bus window, Frankie and Aurora waved at her. Deanna waved back as the bus began to move. It was just like any other day until it wasn’t.

Sun reflected off the smooth metallic surface of the large commercial truck as it came barreling down the empty street. When it didn’t even begin to slow down, Deanna knew something was very wrong. Waving her arms and yelling, she tried to get the driver’s attention but it was too late, the bus was already half way through the turn.

The impact happened right in front of her. As she sat and watched helplessly, the truck smashed into the side of the bus. The force nearly folded the bus in half around the front end as it was pushed down the road. The sound- it would forever haunt her. It was a hollow, dull sound and not nearly as loud as she expected.

Rather abruptly, something- she couldn’t even begin to say what- sparked and the contents of the truck ignited. Fuel was spilling out of the cracked tanker and she expected an explosion like she would often see in countless movies. She expected it to be quick. That wasn’t what happened however.

Instead she watched as a roaring fire expanded, blooming to life and quickly claiming the front of the bus as she ran down the road toward where the large vehicles came to a rest.

Deanna didn’t remember getting out of her car, she realized as she ran. Panic blinded her, fueled her. All she could think about was the kids on the bus. Her kids. Her foot caught on something sending her flying to the ground as others began throwing water on the fire. People maned garden hoses that did nothing but spread the oily fuel more. As she pulled herself to her feet she watched as people struggled to open the emergency exits on the bus, in a panic unable to read or comprehend the instructions.

Burning fuel seeped into the bus, spreading quickly and consuming plastic seats in a rush. The roar of the fire was deafening and yet somehow it did nothing to drown out the sound of the children. That sound would replay in her mind for the rest of her life. Her eyes locked on the terrified faces of Frankie and Aurora, pounding on the window and contorted in fear, fire providing the light for her to see them all the clearer.

As she struggled to find her feet and run toward the bus, she could do nothing but watch. Before her eyes, her whole world ended. It should have been just another morning. It should have been just another day. This shouldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be happening.

At 7:25 on a Wednesday morning that should have been like any other, Deanna Amante’s world came to an end.

~~~~~<3

Deanna couldn’t say how long she had sat there screaming. There were few things she did know. Her screams had gone on far longer than the children yet did nothing to drown out the memory of their cries. She knew the sun was much higher in the sky and that she had no voice when a firetruck finally showed up. They said they had been busy- there were accidents all over the city. It was hard to care what their excuse was because she had needed them, the children had needed them and they were not there.

“The kids are all dead.” It was so damn hard to say those words as she sat, knees scraped and bleeding on the asphalt. Her Sundress was ripped at the hem and dirty. Her ponytail hung limply, band pulled down a few inches and to the side though she couldn’t recall how. This wasn’t how this morning was meant to go. This wasn’t how any morning was meant to go. This was never meant to happen. This shouldn’t have happened. “You took too long.”

“I’m sorry ma’am.” The young fireman who looked largely uncomfortable in his uniform sat next to her on the ground. “It’s hell out there.”

“What do I do now that they’re gone?”

“Your kids were…” He looked to the blacked husk of the bus rather than say it, as if that would somehow make it hurt less.

“Both of them.” She whispered. “Why didn’t the driver stop?”

“I became a firefighter because I wanted to be like my big brother.” The young man started, seemingly unrelated to her question. It occurred to her that the young man was just as shattered as her. “I was proud that today was my first day and I’d be working with him. He is- was- my hero. He turned to dust right in front of my eyes this morning. A lot of people are just… gone.”

“What’s going on? Why is this happening?” Drawing her knees up, she cried into the dirty hem of her dress.

“I don’t know. But you should go home, get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

“What about Frankie. Aurora. I can’t leave them.”

“They’re gone. Nothings left here.” The man didn’t wait to see if she would do as told. He stood and looked out around him. Cars were abandoned and those who were left behind milled about, trying to figure out what had happened and what they should do now. “Go home, wait for news. There is nothing left. The government should issue word soon.”

~~~~~<3

Deanna sat there for a long time. She knew the firetruck was gone and no one came for the bodies. It made sense, there wasn’t anything left to collect, just as the firefighter had said. The fire burned hot and long and those documentaries she had watched back when death was novel reminded her how easy young bones turned to dust ash. Other parents came and sat. Though they were there together, mourning the same thing, each sat alone. They each sought solitude in their grief.

She sat there until the sun began the slow downward march. It didn’t matter if she felt thirst or hunger, passing though those thoughts were. The children would never feel hungry or thirsty again and that thought drove the want away.

Finally she stood only to sway on her feet. Exhaustion, dehydration and grief all working together to make her unsteady as soon as she stood on numb feet. Everything was numb and she wasn’t sure if it was from the events of the day or the lack of movement. Hours and hours had passed and either she didn’t notice or care. Which it was didn’t matter.

Half way back to her car, Deanna’s knees gave out and she hit the asphalt hard. No one offered to help her up, if anyone even noticed at all. Those who lived nearby seemed to turn a blind eye to what had happened here. Some were mowing their lawns- something that would look normal had they not forgotten or simply not bothered to put on pants. It seemed as if the world had stopped turning.

On her second try she made it back to the car, still parked in the road and sat down heavily in the seat. In the passenger seat next to her sat her grocery list. At the top ‘Aurora’s birthday cake’ seemed to glare accusingly at, blaming her for the birthday that would now go uncelebrated. At home, in the closet sat wrapped gifts that would never be opened.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

With a deep breath she turned the key and the car came to life around her and with that, the silence was filled with static from the radio. With a forceful smack on the scan button- harder than needed by far, she slowly turned the car around. A good many of the radio stations had gone dead or seemed to be playing from an automated back up system.

What stations did still have active hosts were clearly just as confused as she was. Cutting the engine after rolling into the driveway, she got out. Absently, she grabbed her purse with numb fingers and left the list on the seat. The door shut with a slam as she stiffly walked up the cobblestone path and unlocked the front door.

Slipping her shoes from her feet, she placed them on the rack between Frankie’s rain boots and Aurora’s brand new light up sneakers. She’d been so excited to get them but they were not allowed at school. Deanna wished more than anything that she had allowed Aurora to wear the shoes to school, rules be damned. They had hardly been worn.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

Reaching up, she dropped her purse onto the hook like she would have any other day. The strap didn’t catch on the hook however and the purse fell to the ground with a thud. Lipstick, napkins, wrapped straws and other assorted crap that seemed so important to have with her until this morning spilled onto the ground. Deanna didn’t react to the fallen purse, she didn’t even glance at it as she walked into the main room, right passed the mostly eaten breakfast plates.

They were asked to clear the plates and put them in the sink. She had lectured them about it countless times. She would remind them that she worked hard to take care of them and that they shouldn’t make the job harder for her. Now, she would never get to take care of them again. Ripping her eyes from the plates, she picked up the remote for the TV and clicked it on.

On the couch was Frankie’s favorite blanket. He’d had it since he was born a little over seven years ago. It was one of the very few things they had with them when their father changed the locks. Deanna wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, desperately trying to feel the warmth of her son’s hug.

Clutching the ends of the blanket toward her chest she walked toward the shelf full of toys. Sitting on top was a stuffed fox that Aurora had long ago outgrown and yet never gave up. She took it to bed with her every night and put it up every morning. Like the blanket, it was one of the few things she had from before her little life was flipped upside down. Aurora would never again clutch this fox to her chest as she drifted off to sleep.

Settling on the couch she flipped to the local news channel. Currently the screen was filled with an empty news studio. Deanna pulled her knees up to her chest and let out a shuddering breath. Her eyes burned from the tears and the smoke both. The studio normally ran the nightly news cycle with four anchors yet there were only two voices. Deanna allowed listening to the voices to distract her at least for now from her own sorrow.

~~~~~<3

“Is it working?” Martha, the long time Anchor women peeked around the camera after shifting it a few times. On the monitor on the table behind the camera showed the shaking image.

“Looks like it, yeah.” Matt, the sportscaster’s voice came from somewhere off camera, in the dark studio.

“Everyone’s ready. We’re good to go.” Another voice came from off screen.

Matt came around the front and froze while he looked at the desk. Normally he would have someone sitting between him and Martha. Squaring his shoulders, he took a seat next to her, for the first time in his life, Matt would sit next to her in the spot held by the lead anchor.

“Hello, Gold Beach. Matt and I are here as always to keep you updated and keep you informed.” Martha started, doing her best to push the unease off of her shoulders and do the job she had dedicated her life to.

“It took us a bit to get enough of us rounded up, to get to the point where we could do this and we thank you for your patience.” Matt started, unsure of himself. He was younger than Martha and had less experience.

“At approximately 7:30 this morning there was a catastrophic event of which we do not currently hold all of the details.” Martha took over when Matt couldn’t find the words to continue. “Reporting off of my personal experience at the time- I still don’t understand it. I watched-” She took a deep breath and Matt reached over and laced his fingers though hers, offering strength. “I watched as my husband of 12 years turn to dust while making his morning coffee.”

“I was here at the Studio at the time.” Matt took over, allowing Martha time to compose herself. “About half of the people present seemed to disappear over a period of five minuets.”

“The Federal Government has issued a State of Emergency Broadcast however as if yet- those of you who have been watching and listening to the broadcasts may already be aware of the fact that the government has yet to issue a statement explaining the events of this morning. As it stands, the current advice is to shelter in place and remain in doors as we wait for further direction.” Martha added as if it was a well rehearsed bit of commentary.

“We’ve got those of us at the studio who remain out on the streets to get some sort of idea as to what is happening.”

“Currently the power plant appears to be running as is usual. The water systems seem to not be impacted as of yet. However many stores are currently closed. Most main roads are nearly impassible however. Tye reports some tow drivers are working to clear the roads. Emergency services seem to be understaffed but functioning to the best of their ability. From those we have been able to touch base with report operating at under 50% capacity.” It was Matt’s turn to need a moment to school himself. His voice broke a bit.

“We have been able to confirm multiple casualties as a direct response of this… event. Multiple car accidents have resulted in fatalities. Hospitals are reportedly at capacity and understaffed. We request any and all of those remaining with medical knowledge or training report to the hospital to assist in caring for the injured.” Martha looked down at her hands as she finished speaking. For all of her career she had been perfectly composed and now she looked human. “Those we have spoken to at the hospital report some deaths resulting of surgeons and key staff turning to dust.”

“Additionally we would like to suggest checking in on those who require care from others, children and the elderly, the disabled. We don’t know how wide spread this… thing is or how many people are gone. Let’s show each other our best selves.” Matt harshly wiped a tear off his face as he finished speaking.

“We’ll be here updating you as we get information.” Martha took over as Matt harshly ran his hands over his face.

~~~~~<3

Deanna watched as the anchors stood and hugged each other tightly. They didn’t cut the feed when they ended their segment. Instead, they put up a large sign saying that they would return periodically for updates.

As night fell, she stood and almost called out to the kids to tell them it was time to get ready for bed. The sound died in her throat as she choked on their names. She didn’t need to call out to the kids. Tonight she didn’t need to remind them to brush their teeth. She didn’t need to tell them to change into their nightclothes in five minutes.

She would never be able to say when or even how she had shut off the lights to the house, leaving only the TV on and locking the doors. There was no memory of the moment she decided to pull blankets from Frankie’s bed and put them in a pile on Aurora’s bed. For the first night after her world ended, she slept in a nest made of the memories of her children and the life that she should have been living.

~~~~~<3

Like so many others, Deanna had expected Wednesday the 24th of July to pass just like any other day. While at this time the details of what had happened this day were largely unknown and under reported, Deanna would spend the first day in the world after the event that would come to be known as The Decimation like so many others all around the world would. While it was near impossible to wrap her head around it, all around the universe beings and creatures alike were grappling with a loss they had yet to understand, just like her. In a world where everyone was going through the same thing, each felt more alone than they had ever been.

When the morning comes the sun will rise on a world that is still trying to figure out what life will bring for those who were left behind and what the repercussions of the lost of half of all qualifying living things as decided by one single arbitrary mind. That world is what this story is about.

~~~~~<3


	2. The Dawn of a New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Mourning, grief, residual trauma, dead bodies, mention of child Dusting, mention of suicide
> 
> AN: Well, we’re here for chapter two. Again, keep in mind it will be a good while until our two people come together. They’ve got a long way to go and are about halfway across the country from each other. While we work to bring them together however, let’s explore what the world after the snap would have likely been like together, yea?

As the sun came up on a whole new world, the sky looked to be a fire of reds and oranges. Impossibly fine dust floated up on the slightest wind and left the sky in a constant hazy state, making the orange and red even more prevalent. Over and over again, Clint told himself that it was just regular dust though he knew it wasn’t.

He’d spent the whole of the day before in a panicked daze and looking back, it was hard to remember the details. One second he was standing with his daughter and his wife, Laura called to him. He looked away from his daughter, toward the rest of his family and when his attention returned to Lila, she was gone. Looking around, he had found himself alone with not even a clue as to what had happened.

He didn’t see it happen and so he looked for them. They should have still been there.

He ran around that field yelling their names. He searched the house, the basement and the shed. Every inch of the property was searched and searched again as panic clouded his mind. Even though all the vehicles were still parked, Clint jumped into the truck he called his own and drove, house arrest be damned.

He went down every back road looking for them, yelling their names for hoursuntil his voice gave out. It was well passed noon when he made his way into town and filled his tank with gas. It was in town that he first got the slightest idea what may have happened to his family.

It wasn’t as if he was unaware if the events in New York. But none of his friends and past teammates had called him to assist. It seemed reasonable to expect they had everything under control. They would have called him if they needed his help. They should have called them if they needed him.

He could only assume that people turning into dust had something to do with what had happened the day before. Yet, he couldn’t even wrap his mind around whole people simply turning to dust, simply gone. There was were so many things that he didn’t understand about the universe but still, whole people turning to dust was something that he couldn’t fathom.

He needed to know how it happened. Why it happened. How could his friends, his old teammates fail so spectacularly as to allow whatever had happened to happen? Shops were abandoned, cars were abandoned and what people remained in the already small town clung to each other in small groups in the streets. Others seemed to mill about lost.

Clint walked into the small grocery and looked around. The doors were unlocked, the lights were on but the store was largely empty. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on a bench, pulling out his phone and dialing those who apparently lost the one fight that counted more than any of the rest only to get voicemail.

~~~~~<3

With a firm shake of his head, Clint pulled himself out of the memories. It was a new day and all be could do was continue pushing to find answers. Pulling out his cell phone, he began calling again. He didn’t know if the owners of the numbers he was calling were still around or if they had turned to dust as well but he needed someone to answer. He needed to know what happened and how to undo it.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna was confused when she woke, feeling like she was being cooked to death under a mountain of blankets. Her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to sleep longer yet she feared going back to sleep. She had the most terrible nightmare during the night where her children had died. It had felt so real that the pain still ripped through her as she fought back blankets.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted with her children’s room. That wasn’t right. She never slept in the kids room. Hell, she hardly ever let the kids sleep in her bed. They somehow grew four extra limbs each, gain hulk strength and become violent in their sleep.

Looking around the room, a sick realization hit her. It wasn’t a dream though it was very much a nightmare.

As she gathered Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s doll, her movements felt robotic all the while. She left the room and turned off the light, not looking back. Part of her hoped that she would find the kids in the living room. Maybe if she pretended it hadn’t happened, somehow it would change the facts.

Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen and made herself breakfast and a pot of coffee. Whether or not she could eat, she didn’t know but making breakfast was a habit. She quickly realized she had made enough to feed the family.

She wasn’t feeding a family. She’d never be feeding her family again. After all that she had gone through, she no longer had a family. It was just her and a kitchen with too much food. It took everything she had to ignore the plates still sitting on the counter from the day before with their dried out and remains of pancakes while she walked by toward the couch.

From the TV she could hear talking and rustling but there was no one currently standing in front of the camera and the sign was still sitting on the desk. But people were in the studio and she hoped that was a sign that an update would be coming soon.

It surprised her that she found herself able to slowly eat almost half of her breakfast. After the second cup of coffee, she felt something resembling human as she stood in front of the large living room window, looking out. There were some people on the streets and the sun still low on the horizon. A haze filled the sky and she wondered if it was from smoke or ash… or dust.

“It doesn’t feel right to say ‘Good Morning’ but Gold Beach, we’re here just the same.” Martha’s voice called from the TV as she made her way behind the desk, tucking the sign away. Deanna turned from the almost normal view outside the window and made her way toward the couch to listen.

“Information is still highly limited at this time however as always we urge all our viewers to be calm and good citizens.” Sean, the lead morning newscaster made his way into the frame and took a seat next to Martha, who looked like she had yet to sleep.

“What we know as of yet is this: There has been some sort of global mass casualty event, the cause of which is still unknown at this time. As you may or may not be aware, the United States government has declared a state of emergency and all citizens are urged to comply with all official orders. We have been advised that the National Guard is mobilizing and that each home will receive a visit from officials to provide rations and water. You are directed to stay home, stay safe.” Martha finished, running her hands through her hair and looking over to Sean, a much younger and newer face within the station.

“Public transportation systems are down and I recommend filling bathtubs and sinks with water in case the electrical gird goes down.” Sean spoke calmly, each word carefully rehearsed and each breath measured and controlled.

“No, they said we don’t have to-” Martha was shocked when Sean turned toward her, voice raising slightly. His carefully controlled exterior shattered.

“They said.” He snapped. “Have you seen a National Guard helicopter? Have you seen anyone outside of the military bases reporting any type of aid yet? We don’t know how long until they will actually get to us- if we are even a priority! They are telling the whole country the same thing. They are saying that the military is intact and that they hardly lost any men. I don’t fucking buy that.”

“Sean, you’re-”

“Scaring people? They should be scared. Mass amounts of people turned to dust with no warning and for no apparent reason. Where is word form the President? Where is his public address? Hell, it was an advisor that made the announcement and it wasn’t even broadcast correctly. We don’t even know if they are still alive.” Sean was nearly yelling now. His young face was flushed and tears were gathering in his eyes. Deanna could do nothing but watch as she sat on the couch.

“What I do know is approximately half the people I know cannot be reached. What I do know is my sister’s three week old baby turned to dust in her arms just over 24 hours ago. What I do know is that I found her hanging from the staircase this morning. I know that I drove by the burnt out shell of a school bus this morning. I know that people turned to dust and even more people died and everyone is acting like this is fucking okay. It’s not fucking okay. This is the end of the world and I’m not going to spend it waiting for the fucking government to save me. I’m getting the fuck out of here and you should too.” Sean flipped Martha the finger and stormed off the set leaving a stunned silence behind.

“I-” Martha’s voice cracked as she ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know what to do. We just- we have to keep pressing forward. Taking care of each other.” Matt came into view, sitting where Sean had been and rubbed Martha’s back as she took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure no doubt. In Deanna’s living room on the other side of the city, her coffee cup slipped from her fingers.

“As always, we are committed to bringing you the facts as best we know them.” Matt started after taking a deep breath. His voice wasn’t as steady as it had been the night before and like Martha, he looked as if he had hardly slept. “There have been additional deaths at the hospital directly related to lack of staff and we urge anyone with any type of medical training or background to report to hospitals and inpatient medical facilities. Via internet reports we’ve had visuals of two downed passenger aircraft though it is unknown if there was any survivors. We can only assume there are others and that the cause was related to the events we have witnessed yesterday. I beg that you all embrace and take care of your fellow men and women as Americans and human beings.”

“We can only pray that God holds us in his hands.” Martha added, voice shaking.

“We’ll be back in a few hours with another update.” Matt added as he put up the sign again.

~~~~~<3

Deanna spent the day wrapped in her blanket. Sometimes she cried. At times she screamed and screamed until her voice gave out. She has no idea how she functioned for the rest of the day yet somehow she did. The day came to an end and again she found herself sleeping in her children’s room.

~~~~~<3

The next morning wasn’t any better. Nor was the rest of the week. She made food, ate some and drank coffee. She cried, screamed and sat in front of the TV. It could have gone on for weeks or months until she shriveled up and died.

But it didn’t.

What snapped her out of the state was being plunged into darkness. It was as if a switch flipped in her. Deanna stood, joints aching and stiff from the little movement she had done in the last week and slowly made her way over toward the window. Looking up and down the street, she simply saw darkness. It was a darkness like she had never seen before, a pure darkness unmarred by any distant glow.

Yet the longer she stood there, looking out into the darkness the more her eyes adjusted to it. There was comfort in the darkness. The moon shone brightly, reflecting off of cars and damp sidewalks. Stars filled the sky, more than she had ever seen before. It was calming and in a way forced her to see the world through a different light.

Something in the world around her had changed on a fundamental level. A good number of people all over the world was gone. The Avengers, those who proclaimed themselves to be the defenders of the Earth had battled a great enemy from somewhere she couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around and they had lost.

~~~~~<3

A week after the event that what remained of the world’s major news outlets dubbed ‘The Decimation’ it was clear that the world was struggling to figure out how to move forward. Listening to the emergency radio did nothing but prove that the world wasn’t going to just right itself any time soon. There were promises from the government that the National Guard would be providing aid but no additional information as to how or when.

They were advised time and time again to sit at home and wait. According to the news casters, some went out and opened shop or tried to distribute aid independently. No one had apparently heard from the President and many other world leaders were missing or confirmed ‘dusted’. Some had a designated next in command that was able to fill the space. Other countries were reportedly in chaos based on reports from within their boarders but in areas where the power had died, access to the internet died with cell phone batteries.

Deanna went out when the National Guard never came and went to the gas station near her home, driving along deserted roads. It was odd and peaceful. Birds chirped in trees though they were far and few between. There was a lack of birds and small creatures. It seemed that whatever being it was that decided what was worth being dusted took out avian populations along with feline.

Pulling into the parking lot, she noticed the shop windows were smashed in and glass sparkled on the pavement. It was almost pretty. Cutting the engine, Deanna stepped outside and that same glass crunched under her feet as she walked into the shop.

The shelves partially were nearly picked clean. Carefully, she gathered what supplies she could find. Every movement felt nearly automated. She hardly thought as she moved. It was better to not think, she found. If she didn’t think than she wouldn’t remember the times she had walked with the kids to this corner store to get ice cream in the summer. As she loaded up her car, the gleam of a metal baseball bat caught her eye, peeking out from behind the counter.

She debated for a moment and almost didn’t take it, then she remembered the broken windows. If people were beginning to start stealing from shops, was she really safe? One unsure step after another, she walked over toward the bat peeking out from behind the counter back inside the store. Glass crunched underfoot and reflected light. The world was silent.

Wrapping her hand around the smooth surface, she finally looked behind the counter and a scream was torn from her throat.

He must have been the shopkeeper at one time, based on his uniform. Blood pooled around the man’s misshapen head. Blood stained the green and yellow shirt a dirty brown and dried. One open eye looked out at her, accusingly. With fingers locked on the bat she jerked back, more a reaction than anything. The bat slipped out of his relaxed hand as she backed, palms scratching on glass on the ground.

She crawled away before managing to get to her feet, bat clutched in her and. Shaking legs did nothing to slow her down as she ran to her car, ripping the door open and slamming it shut before she had even fully settled into the seat. The force of the door hitting her hip would likely leave a bruise. Breaths were coming fast as she fought back panic.

Slamming the key into the ignition, she nearly screamed when the radio came to life with the same emergency deceleration message that had filled the airwaves all day. The car screeched as she rushed out of the parking lot and onto the road as if the man would rise up as a demon to claim her life for having the nerve to steal from him.

Tears gathered in her eyes but only a few escaped as she parked in front of her home. Grabbing the bat, she examined everything around her. How could she trust anyone with what she had just seen? Why? Swallowing bile, she decided it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the world she knew anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.

It took longer to unload the car and bring in the cans of food and water than she wanted or expected. Not once did she let go of the bat, causing the delay. Every Gust of wind caused her to startle. As she worked she could feel eyes on her. The hairs at the back of her neck stood on end though as much as she looked around, she couldn’t spot anything different than any other day this week.

Once inside, she threw the deadbolt on the door. Going through the dark house, she checked every window and the back door. When she had purchased this home, not even a year ago she had loved the large picture windows that allowed her to keep an eye on the children playing outside. Now the large glass panes did nothing but fill her with dread.

Lighting an oil lamp that she had purchased mainly for decoration but was now very much thankful that in was functional, Deanna pulled the case of water into the hall and out of sight before going back for the bags of cans. She turned the volume down low on the emergency radio and set on the case of water. Lastly, she pulled Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s stuffed fox into the hall while clutching a can opener as if that would somehow protect her from demons.

Turning the wick down as low as she dared, she hoped no one would seek her out. On the radio, the same emergency declaration that had been playing nearly nonstop for the last few days abruptly cut off, plunging her into silence. The silence was oddly comforting, allowing her to hear the crickets outside chirping with the sun sinking behind the horizon by the minute.Part of her hoped that the silence would go on for the rest of the night. A gruff man’s voice filled the air, shattering that blessed silence.

“Good evening Cook County. Rejoice as you are now under rule of the Manson family. I am King Chris Manson and I expect that you will all kneel before me.” There was scuffling in the background before a second voice was heard, yelling in panic and fear both.

“You can’t do this. You can’t declare yourself King. This is America! We are Americans!” Rather than argue with the unknown man, gunfire filled the air.

“I can and I did.” The self proclaimed King Chris Manson calmly spoke. “For those who may be too dumb to figure it out- That man just learned what happens to those who oppose my rule. I expect as I tour my Kingdom that all residence offer a quarter of their supplies as Tax. Refuse and suffer. This isn’t America anymore. America died when it’s leaders were turned to dust. This is the Kingdom of Manson.”

“All hail King Manson!” A few voices cried out before static filled the air and Deanna turned off the radio, sitting in her self imposed silence as she tried to both think and not think. She wanted to cry but it felt like her tears had run dry. Still, the well of sadness was deep.

This was really happening. This was reality. The National Guard wasn’t coming to save her. The government wasn’t stepping in. People were dying still. People were killing each other.

~~~~~~~<3

The brittle sound of glass shattering woke her from her uneasy sleep. Deanna’s back was stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor or perhaps it was from the night prior on the Frankie’s too small bed. The lamp had gone dark at some point during the night, likely having run out of fuel.

Creeping around the corner while gripping the baseball bat, she peeked into the main room. Moonlight glittered off broken glass on the living room floor. For a moment she thought about how hard it would be to clean the glass up so that the kids didn’t find shards in the carpet. Then she remembered that it didn’t matter, she could leave the glass there for the rest of the month and the kids wouldn’t cut themselves on it. The kids won’t cut themselves on anything ever again.

The beam of a flashlight moved over the kitchen and someone was opening cabinets. They hadn’t seen her in the dark. She wasn’t well hidden but the shadows did enough to hide her.She wasn’t sure if she should just let them take what they wanted.

“Do you see Deanna?” A voice called from outside. It sounded like the children’s gym teacher, Mr. Rick.

“No.” The man in the kitchen called back as Mr. Rick walked closer, stepping over the broken window frame into the living room and Deanna realized it was the children’s teacher from the year prior, Mr. Taft. “Aurora said Deanna was always shopping. There’s lots of stuff here.”

“What are you doing?” Deanna stood, bat hanging limply from her hands as she realized she knew these people. “Why did you break the window?”

“We’re gathering supplies.” Mr. Rick said as the two beams of light settled on her, blinding her for a moment.

“That’s my food.” She dumbly observed as Mr. Taft loaded up a bag of canned goods regardless of the fact that she was standing there, watching.

“It’s ours now.” Mr. Rick answered, joining Mr. Taft in the kitchen and loading up everything he could grab. Deanna launched herself at them, dropping the bat and pulling at Mr. Taft’s arm.

“You’re a teacher for god’s sake!” She yelled.

“Was a teacher. There are no teachers anymore. There are no more students, no more schools.” Mr. Taft pushed her and she fell to the ground only for Mr. Rick to kick her, the blow connecting harshly.

Blindly she grabbed at the bat and swung. It took a few tries for the bat to connect the first time. She kept swinging until they backed away. Her chest was heaving and panic was welling inside of her as she swung and swung. Tears fueled by panic filled her eyes. It didn’t register that they had abandoned their spoils and left the way they had come until the bat was hitting nothing but cabinets and floor, the hollow sound filling the still air.

Deanna didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she crawled through her house, trying to accomplish her goals without drawing any attention to her home. Carefully, she pulled toward the front door a pillow and blankets. By dawn she had a pile of stuff that wouldn’t even begin to cover all her needs for the foreseeable future. Yet it would have to do.


	3. Planning to Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None (yes- you did read that right.)
> 
> Welcome back to the pain fest. This week... I promise not to make you cry too much. Thank @winterisakiller for somehow not killing me yet and instead offering all the love and support needed to get through this dark fic. And thank @tnystrk-exe for the always present encouragement to ‘King it up’. I swear, one day, Deanna and Clint will be in the same place. But for now, it’s very much Deanna’s story of how she survived long enough to get there. 
> 
> The RV featured in this story is an actual model. I spent a day touring lots in Vegas as part of research for this fic and talking to salesmen who may have mistaken me for a ‘proper author’. If you want to check it out- it’s a 2019 Forest River Sunseeker 3010DS by Ford and I honest to god want one. The one I toured did indeed have the solar power package. Google can get ya a floor plan and pictures, if you’d like

Deanna was thankful for the full tank of gas when she left the small ranch house that she had planned to call her home for many years to come in her small car. Still, she quickly realized as she slowly navigated a city that was in worse condition than she expected that the car wasn’t going to be big enough for her to survive more than a handful of days in it. It wouldn’t be able to haul enough stuff, store enough and she would so often have to rely on what supplies she can find at the time of needing them.

It was toward the outer edge of the city that she drove by the solution to her problem. It was too perfect, really. On one side of the highway was a motor home dealership and just a few large lots before it she had drove by a Costco. Looking around, the area seemed to be peaceful enough in the mid afternoon sun. So many people where moving into the inner city, hoping and waiting for the promised assistance from the National Guard.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned sharply right and held on tightly as she forced her small sedan over the curb and around the edge of the ditch to avoid an accident that blocked the road. It occurred to her after the car teetered for a moment, threatening to slide into the ditch that she could have just turned farther ahead on the next street. The fact that she had acted recklessly scared her but there was no time for that now.

Luckily, the car didn’t roll. Unluckily, it did get stuck and Deanna was forced to abandon it. Logically, she knew she could go back for everything. Yet that didn’t stop her from loading up Frankie’s blanket and Aurora’s stuffed fox doll into the bottom of a backpack where they would be safest. On top she tossed a handful of bottles of water and a few cans of food. In the front pocket she stuffed aspirin, acetaminophen and ibuprofen as well as a collection of bandages. In her hand, she clutched the crowbar that she hoped would be more useful than the baseball bat should she need to break into anything.

It was almost too heavy for her and reluctantly she had to pull out a few cans of food and two water bottles to leave behind when she nearly toppled into the ditch. Crossing the street, the wind gusted and blew her dark hair around her. Pushing her hair back, she looked up and down the street yet again and found it just as empty as it was when she got out of the car.

Still, there was the always present sense of unease. Looking up, she watched the sun through the hazy sky. It’d been just over a week since The Decimation and the dusty haze in the sky hadn’t only just begun to let up. A good rain would do the sky good but she couldn’t stomach the thought of what would be falling with the water. It would be more than just ash from fires.

Around her, the world felt empty. In truth, it was. Half of the people were gone. More, if you think about it. She couldn’t bear to think about it. The population of stray dogs seemed to have been cut in half as well. She wondered what else was included in the decimation.

A shake of her head brought her back to the task at hand. She most definitely didn’t want to stay out in the open and exposed. Though the signs of violence in the area was less apparent, she still could spot the occasional broken window and that filled her with unease.

She thought about touring the vehicles on the lot and picking one but decided it was better to see if she could even find the keys first. It wouldn’t matter if she found what seemed to be the perfect RV, made for her and not terrifying to drive if she couldn’t find the keys. It was more important to know what she had access to first.

Trying the door, she found it unlocked and slipped inside. Just as she turned and locked the door behind her, there was a crash and a rather unmanly scream. In return she screamed reflexively as she whipped around and raised the crow bar. Their eyes locked and for a moment they just watched each other while they evaluated the threat each posed to the other.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke softly, slowly lowering the pipe he had clutched in his hands. His brown hair was messy but he was clean unlike a few of the people she had seen on the side of the road. “This is… was my dad’s shop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either.” She answered. “My car is stuck.”

“Do you want to get it free or…?” He trailed off. “Where are you going.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” The crowbar hung limply from her arm as she relaxed. At least for now it appeared they both were going to behave like civil human beings. It wasn’t something she dared count on in the first instant of meeting but things looked promising.

“How are things in the city?” The man asked as he ran his fingers through his short dark hair. He looked to be rather young, all things considered. In the world before, he would be right about the age to be well into his college education but with far enough to go still that graduation seemed to be a dream.

“My kids’ teachers broke into my house and tried to steal food.”

“That bad?”

“I don’t even live that far from here.” Admitting it hurt.

“They’re telling people to go into the cities for help.” He pulled his thin lip between his teeth and crumpled into a chair in the lobby. “Is there even help?”

“Not that I’ve seen.” Sitting next to him, she introduced herself and learned his name was Lewis. For a few minutes they simply sat in silence.

She almost didn’t hear him when he did speak. “We need to get out of the city. It’s safer where fewer people are.”

“We?”

“I mean, if you want. People are stealing and it’s not going to be safe in the cities for much longer at all and we’re safer together than alone. The RVs- they all have functioning kitchens, bathrooms, beds and locking doors.”

“I-”

“Unless you’re an idiot at least some of those things crossed your mind when you came here and not to the tow yard down the way when your car got stuck.” He laughed and it sounded brittle.

“You’re right. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to take one, if I could even find the keys let alone drive any of them.”

“They’re a lot easier to drive now and without highways full of rush hour traffic it’s probably going to be fine. Keep the tanks full, store food and supplies- Who knows what the world’s going to be like and for how long?”

“What about gas? If all the gas stations are closed-”

“I can teach you. We have a fueling station out back- it was more convenient that way. Just a few months ago- Dad was so proud of them- We got these new Sunseeker models in with built in Solar hookups. Set them up wanting to charge an extra markup for it being ready to go.”

“Maybe we should just wait here-”

“I don’t want to go alone but I will. I’m not staying here. But I’m scared.” Tears welled in his eyes and Deanna saw him in that instant not as a man something like ten years younger than her but as a boy still learning how to be a man in a world that’s gone crazy. “Please, come with? At least for a bit?”

It quickly became clear that he needed her and the feeling of being needed was grounding. One of the Motorhomes had a generator running and while Lewis told her of his grand plans, Deanna fixed them a proper chicken dinner in a tiny kitchen. All those years she had made fun of those who had doomsday plans and here she was, thankful for a kid’s general idea.

“Is this one of the ones we’ll take?” She asked as she set a plate down in front of him.

“No, no. This one’s older. It was Dad’s. Better to take a newer one.”

“So when do we leave? What do we take?”

“Tomorrow evening. We’ll leave early and hit up a few places for supplies on the way. The Costco hasn’t had much activity the whole week- It’s been locked down tight and has back up power running. No one seemed to be inside when I checked out the area a few days ago. Load up everything we can. If we can get some trailers and stick some sheds on it- even more space.”

After a proper meal- the first one Deanna had since the power went out not too long ago, she felt oddly better. She could think. She could plan. Most of all, she could learn and so that’s what she did. Lewis was eager to show her the vehicles he had planned on taking.

They were large, each 35 feet long or so he said. It was clear his father must have been a good salesman who taught his son well as Lewis told her about the tank capacities, the solar panels that could provide almost enough electricity to power the home on a typical day before opening the side door and showing her inside.

It wasn’t bad though the lack of space would take getting used to. The simple reality was that it was much better than the little sedan she was driving. Above the cab was a bunk that Lewis suggested storing some weapons in. A curtain could be drawn across the space making a private sleeping as designed but also a dark place to hide should she need. Storing a gun in the area would allow her to defend herself should someone get curious enough to attempt to break in. She hated how she had to agree, it was a benefit. Hanging from the edge of the bunk was a curtain that could be pulled across to separate the space.

The living space was combined with the kitchen and dining area. Lewis showed off the tv and the built in DVD player. Deanna was more excited than she wanted to admit to see a microwave in addition to the small three burner gas stove and oven. The refrigerator in this model was still small but was a two door fridge with a freezer. The sink was double sided and she felt dumb for how that made her emotional. Deanna always liked double sided sinks.

On the far side of the length of the body was a short couch next to a U shaped dinette. Above it all was a row of small cabinets with small LED lights that shone down. The windows were large and shatterproof or so Lewis said. Each had both a pull down curtain and hanging curtains that would give privacy and darkness. The dinette benches all lifted to reveal more storage space and the table lowered to a point. The back rests fit perfectly on the table to make what was designed to be another sleeping space should one need it.

Lewis pointed out that the slide-out portions were extended and that when they were put in the walkway would be very narrow but told her not to worry about that. There was a control panel that would move the sections in and out with the touch of a button. When the electric was not functioning, he assured her that there was a hand crank she could use to move them if she wanted. It wouldn’t be easy but they were both coming to terms with the fact that the world after the decimation wouldn’t be easy.

There was a short hall with a door on either side that lead to a small bedroom. Carefully, she pushed down on the plush mattress to find memory foam. It was nicer than her bed back home had been. The queen size bed was bare but she didn’t find herself bothered. Across from it was a wall of cabinets with a small TV mounted toward the top of the built in wardrobe. When the portion was pushed in the foot of the bed would brush against the wardrobe door. The base of the bed frame had built in drawers.

When she turned and got her little sedan stuck, the idea of taking a motorhome was a vague concept. Now as she stood in a place designed for maximized secure storage, she couldn’t begin to imagine leaving the city without one.

The evening was spent learning how to power on the generator, fill and empty the water tanks and change the propane tanks. Lewis showed her how to use a manual water pump to fill the gas tank from the large underground tanks and how to use different pump to fill the water tanks from areas of standing water.

As night fell, Deanna unloaded her car with Lewis’ help and divided what supplies they had between the two vehicles. Water bottles were stored under the dinette benches, medicine stored in bathroom cabinets and cans of food settled in largely empty kitchen cabinets before Deanna curled up on the soft mattress with Frankie’s blanket wrapped around her and Aurora’s fox clutched to her chest.

Morning came quickly and Deanna was up before dawn making them a breakfast before the day begun. When knocking sounded on the door, a scream was torn from her chest.

“It’s just me Deanna.” Lewis called sheepishly, poking his head into the doorway.

~~~~~<3

After eating, they carefully made their way toward Costco as the sun began to lighten the horizon. Lewis wanted to do what they could under the cover of darkness while they were still in the city. The RVs lumbered carefully down the road as she got used to driving the large vehicle.

It took longer than they wanted to pry open the back doors of the Costco. The generator keeping power to the building sputtered and fell dead as they worked, forcing them to enter the building with flashlights as their only source of light. Still, Deanna was thankful that the generator had lasted for as long as it had.

Feeling perhaps cockily sure that no one else was around, they made their way toward the front, grabbing large flat carts and set to work gathering supplies independently of one another.

Deanna first went through the frozen and cold sections. For a while she thought about grabbing arm fulls of cans of consecrated juice before settling on just two cans. The refrigerator and freezer space was limited and she would much rather use it for meat. She grabbed beef and chicken before moving onto the dairy sections. A gallon of milk and boxes of butter were added along with a box of sixty eggs.

From the produce section she grabbed lettuces, berries, apples, oranges, grapes, bananas and sacks of potatoes before going back and grabbing carrots and celery.

For a moment she had to stop and rest. The world seemed to close in around her and she had to focus on breathing. The task at hand needed to be completed. Later, tonight she could have her breakdown, scream and cry. One step in front of the other.

Deanna pushed her cart forward and added cans of vegetables and fruits. She added boxes filled with trail mix and handfuls and handfuls of jerky packets. Cans of chicken and fish found their way into a box set on top of cases of water.

She grabbed a gallon jug of water and twisted the top off, drinking it as she pushed the cart back outside. Carefully, she loaded water under the dinette benches. What didn’t fit was put in an outside storage compartment. She filled some of the cabinets with cans of food before filling the refrigerator and freezer, noting how much space was left. Deanna set a can of frozen juice on the counter to thaw.

This time when she went inside she locked the store she locked up her new home behind her. Bags of rice and beans were wrestled onto the cart. Flour and boxes of yeast packets went next. Brown and white sugar was added to the stack with baking soda and powder. Before moving on she added a box with a fancy spice rack. She didn’t care about the rack itself however it came with the spices, making it an easy choice. She grabbed boxes and boxes of salt and pepper, remembering how historically cultures had gone to war over salt.

After unloading the cart for the second time she again went inside, trailing not far behind Lewis who was munching from a bag of potato chips as he added a snack foods and candy to his cart. For all he had thought and planned, it was clear that he still wasn’t always thinking everything through. Still, the world they knew was over and so if he wanted to eat gummy fruit snacks who was she to judge him? Deanna snagged herself a bag to snack on herself while she walked. Why not? The world as she knew it was over so she may as well enjoy some candy.

From the pharmacy she grabbed bottles and bottles of pain killers and multivitamins, bandages and first aid supplies. Not too far away, Lewis forced open the door to the back pharmacy. Deanna was quick to go to his side and together they loaded up bottles of antibiotics. Lewis gathered more and more different medications but she didn’t want any part of that. He may want to risk using things he didn’t understand based on guesswork but she wouldn’t put her life on the line for that. The antibiotics were important however, infection was dangerous and could be deadly.

The cart was heavy and her arms and back ached as she pushed it toward the center of the store. She grabbed what clothes she could. A display of pillows provided her somewhere to rest her head at night as she grabbed two. A plush blanket was better than nothing and so she added the ugly green thing to her cart as well.

She grabbed a set pots and pans before standing in front of a wall of boxes of dishes. It felt weird, wrong even to be contemplating dish sets. When her eyes settled on a brand she loved for the way they didn’t break if Frankie dropped them.

Again she had to close her eyes and focus on anything else but the way his eyes got wide when the plate would clatter to the ground. His father would yell and scream over dropped dishes. For a long while she simply counted up from one until the tears stopped and her breathing evened out. She hadn’t made it even to fifty before she had calmed herself again.

Grabbing a box she tossed it on the pile of stuff. Looking around one last time, she hoped to find more kitchen supplies but it seemed their luck was running low. In reality, she could probably grab such things at a Walmart later if she wanted. Surely that wouldn’t be stolen nearly as fast as food. Or at least, she hoped.

Regardless, she’d been inside far longer than she wanted and she was starting to get jumpy. Through the skylights high on the ceiling, she could see morning light growing stronger seemingly by the minute.

“Ready?” She called to Lewis who was picking through clothes.

“Almost. Go load up, I’ll be right behind you.”

~~~~~<3

Deanna loaded the large bulk bags of rice, flour and sugar into the locking exterior compartment with the extra water before setting about unboxing the pots, pans, dishes and spice rack while she waited for Lewis. Later, she planned on getting containers for the bulk items to prevent waste and allow her to bring what she needs into the home as needed. Lewis too much less time loading his things up and before heading off with the plan to stop at a sports store on the way out of town.

That one plan would prove to be the greatest mistake of Deanna’s first month post Decimation.


	4. The road to a new life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Um... death? Gun violence.

Ten Days Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

Deanna carefully navigated the large RV down the road behind Lewis’. In time she knew it would get easier to drive the beast but right now, it felt like she was driving a tank that was at risk of tipping over at the slightest bump. As she drove, she had Frankie’s blanket draped over her shoulders and Aurora’s stuffed fox in her lap. Absently she would reach down and pet the worn fur along the fox’s back.

Lewis signaled that they would be turning left and she absently followed him. Eventually she was going to have to start thinking for herself, she was sure of that. But right now all she wanted to do was check out and let him take the lead.

The RVs rolled and rocked over the uneven pavement in the parking lot she had no memory of entering as they came to a stop. She was far more focused on keeping her breathing even and pushing every nonessential thought away. Each breath mattered more than what horrors her mind could bring her if she let it roam free.

Deanne reached down and grabbed the gallon jug of orange juice and took a long drink from it. The sky had cleared up and it was looking to be a nice day even if the haze seemed to hang on the horizon. It was peaceful and the engines were quite for their size, doing little to disturb the peace. She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the warmth of the sun through the windshield and the taste of the juice, focused on that and that alone.

There was a thump as Lewis’ door slammed shut. He raised his hands high over his head and stretched, a groan slipping out of him as tension was pulled out of his torso. The sun was warm on him and he told himself that it was going to be a good day. Today was going to be a good day because he would make it so. There was no reason to dwell on the past when he was moving forward.

“Hey Dee, Come on. Let’s get inside and get on the road soon.” There was an almost sing-song quality to his voice that made her smile.

For just a moment she allowed herself to pretend peaceful it was just another summer day and that she was just another woman and it was until everything went sideways.

~~~~~<3

There was a sharp crack that filled the air, jarring her from her peaceful relaxation. It was loud and for a moment Deanna wondered what the hell it was Lewis was doing out there. The sound came again and again and yelling filled the air. Deanna was up out of her seat and had the door open in an instant. She leaned out and looked up toward where Lewis’ driver’s side door was open.

Lewis stumbled toward her, red blossoming on his too nice blue dress shirt. As he tripped over his feet, moving toward her, he reached and patted his abdomen and pulled his red stained hand back and looked dumbly at it. Another crack filled the air and he fell hard against the body of the RV.

A man ran forward as Deanna tried to process what was happening in front of her eyes and failed. Before she could look at the running man, Lewis grabbed her attention. He was waving his arm at her, motioning for her to do something. What she should have been doing was escaping her. All she could see was blood.

“Go!” His voice finally reached her ears as he yelled and waved for her to leave him.

“I can’t.” She was out two steps. “I can’t leave you.”

“Go.”

Another crack filled the air and while she could do nothing but watch, the side of Lewis’ neck ripped open. Red poured down the side of his neck in a waterfall and quickly soaked the left side of the blue shoulder and sleeve of his shirt only to quickly merge with the large red stains in the middle.

Lewis slipped down the side of his RV inch by painful inch. A shaking hand went to his neck in a helpless effort to slow the bleeding. What for, she couldn’t begin to guess. It was a lost cause.

If she called for an ambulance, would one make it in time? Would one even come at all? Perhaps it was simply reaction and survival instincts driving the action as he lowered himself to the ground one small shuffling step at a time, leaving a smeared trail of bright red that seemed almost cartoonish above his head. She always expected blood smears to be a darker shade of red than what was on the side of the RV.

The man ran closer and her throat froze when she tired to call out to him for help Lewis. Clutched in the man’s hand was a heavy looking handgun. With a start, she realized it was again Mr. Taft doing everything that a teacher shouldn’t do. He didn’t even stop to check Lewis’ condition.

Another man was in the doorway of the sports store and Deanna didn’t wait to see if it was another teacher. Swallowing the bile that threatened to spill from her throat, she backed into the cab of the RV and slammed the door shut. The doors clicked locked automatically as she threw it into gear. Everything violently rocked as she took off less than gently.

Mr. Taft leaned out of what had been Lewis’ RV and yelled. The words were lost to her over the roar of the blood rushing in her ears. Distantly, or so it seemed at least, the crack of gunfire reached her ears but she paid it no mind. The only thing that mattered was getting away. She had to get away from this insanity. Far away.

She drove and drove, not stopping until the city fell away around her and gave way to large open tracks of land. When the road was empty and not a building was within sight, she finally pulled herself to a jerky halt. In the cabinets and storage spaces, things rattled and clanked into each other.

For a moment she simply sat with her hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white with the effort. Then everything became too much and she pushed the door open with more force than required and all but fell out of the cab as the system pinged repeatedly, reminding her that the engine was still running while she emptied her guts with one painful heave after another. She retched as the bile mixed with the citric taste of the orange juice covered her tongue.

When her stomach was empty she stumbled back, sitting down hard on the step of the cab with her head hung limply. Reaching up with trembling hands she warped them around the back of her head, curling in on herself more as the reality of what had happened only a few short hours ago dawned on her.

She had watched one of her children’s teachers kill a man- he was hardly more than a boy really. She watched him die. If she closed her eyes she could still see how the blood poured out of him and they didn’t even seem to care.

The interstate should be busy at this hour yet not cars drove by. The silence was eerie as she sat there, tears drying now on her face.

This was the world she would live in now. This was the world after the decimation. As she sat, Deanna wondered if had she not put her children on the bus that morning, could she protect them in this new world? She wasn’t even sure she could protect herself, she had no weapons. Deanna wondered if it wasn’t a painful blessing that her two children

Running her hands through her hair, Deanna looked up at the hazy blue sky. The sun was warm on her face as she pulled herself together. Silently, she said a prayer for Lewis and all those like him who were spared turning to dust only to die violently. She said a prayer for her children who suffered the same type of fate.

On shaking lags, she pushed herself to stand and slowly made her way into the cab. After a glance up and down the road, she decided she was safe enough for now and killed the ignition With the beeping silenced, she pulled the door closed. Moving into the back, she carefully walked down the narrow path into the bathroom and brushed her teeth.

When she sat back down in the driver’s seat, she had half a mind to throw out the jug of Orange juice. The thought of it alone was enough to make her stomach roll. Yet she had no choice but drink it- there was no room to stash it in the refrigerator and she simply refused to waste a valuable resource.

~~~~~<3

Just Over Two Weeks Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

In the time that followed, Deanna slowly made her way farther East. Before long, she had guns stashed in the front and back of the RV and made strides toward perfecting the art of parking the RV far enough off the road to be unseen. It was always better to go unseen, the world had become a dangerous place.

On the radio she would sometimes catch news broadcasts reporting a country fractured. King Manson was seizing control of the coastal area in the west, leaving bloodshed in his path. There were others like him in the south but he was the largest it seemed. Faceless, nameless bands of thieves roamed the highways, each trying to do just as Mason was- take control of some land and secure some security for themselves at the cost of others.

She wished she could say that she’d never fired any of her guns at another human being in the last week but that wasn’t the case, each shot intended only to scare those who intended to do her harm back. As the days marched on, she had done what she had to do to survive, drawing on the plans Lewis had spoke of. She had picked up a trailer shortly after she crossed the Nevada state line.

~~~~~<3

In Saint George, Utah she found the town largely empty. On the buildings she found scriptures painted in messy brush strokes. On other buildings were messages left by the faithful who had left their homes behind. They had gone south and advising her to pick up a bible and to follow. The sight made the hair on her arms stand on end.

She wondered if these people were still alive and if this was the biblical rapturefor a moment before pushing the thought away. She couldn’t say if she believed in God. Like many, her thoughts on that subject had become confused with the discovering of the reality of the Norse Gods Thor and Loki. There was many who found faith lacking, not knowing the exacts of who or what they had been praying to. Others found renewed faith in a God they could see, a God they knew was real. Faith in the Norse Gods had been growing in the years since Thor had become known.

She made it a habit to park on the outskirts of town. It was a lesson she had quickly learned to not draw attention to herself. A thirty plus foot RV running around all over town would draw every bit of attention. Though it looked deserted, she couldn’t ever know for sure. Most of what she found in these deserted towns was elderly and disabled people, simply waiting for death to take them while they try and survive as best they could.

She parked on a back road just far enough away from town to feel safe. Or at least as safe as she could ever feel near buildings. She wanted to be close enough to homes with parked cars that she could avoid spending the whole of her day walking. Locking up her home after slipping a gun onto her hip, she started out.

There was a chill in the early morning air, giving just a hint of how summer was beginning to fade in the higher elevations. She huddled deeper into her jacket as she quickly began to approach the first house she spotted with a parked truck and overgrown grass. Crouching down, she carefully made her way closer.

A truck was in the drive and there didn’t appear to be any new tracks. Still, she watched for signs of life. In the distance a deer grazed on the edge of the lawn but otherwise the world around her seemed dead. Still, she waited. The curtains in the window moved, or so she thought. It just as easily could have been her mind playing tricks on her. Deanna had begun to see demons in the shadows and darkened homes. Perhaps this was how madness started? If she’d ever get the chance to ask a Norse God, perhaps Loki could tell her. He was mad himself, after all.

The wind blew dust around her and rustled the trees. The air smelled fresh and she couldn’t help looking toward the sky. The haze had begun to fade from the sky as the dust had slowly began to settle. On the roof, painted in red was a bible verse she didn’t care to read. If there was an even a God, he had turned his back on her the day he allowed her children to burn before her eyes.

Peeking into the window, she watched for signs of life. Inside was a mess, trash spilled everywhere. There was a commotion of thumps and scratching as a large dog jumped into the window. A scream locked in her throat and though she tried to keep to on, it echoed through the empty land when it ripped forth.

The black and brown fur did nothing to hide the way the creature’s ribs, hips and spine all protruded from the body. Jumping on the window and looking out at her, she could see the tail wagging excitedly. The beast was indifferent to the heart attack he had given her.

It seemed safe enough to assume the house was empty and abandoned by the state of the excited dog. The door was unlocked and when it opened she had expected the dog to rush out and run off. Instead he simply danced around her, jumping excitedly and tail lashing back and forth in a blur. Though the creature was clearly half starved, he seemed to care more about greeting her than running off.

After he danced around her legs for a few hyperactive moments, he dashed inside and Deanna followed, though clearly not fast enough for him. The dog came prancing back toward her to dart around her legs some more, nearly tripping her.

“Hello?” Silence was all that answered her.

The dog showed her toward a pantry door in the kitchen. When she opened it the dog barreled inside and wasted no time ripping into a bag of dog kibble.

She left him to his meal and instead started opening cabinets and searching for supplies. While it was clear the house had gone untouched since the inhabitants had probably turned to dust, there was little in the way of food stores. Clearly, this family wasn’t one for cooking.

She found some dried pasta in the pantry and a few gallons of water. Both were tossed onto the counter behind her. Overall the shelves were fairly empty. There was an opened box of pancake mix and instant potatoes but when she peeked inside she found the dried up bodies of dead bugs inside. Figures. These people didn’t know to transfer that sort of thing to a nice air tight container so when the end of the world happened, the woman scavenging through their home would have pancake mix and instant potatoes to feed herself with for a few days.

Oddly enough, she found herself cursing these people who had left the world in a rain of dust almost two weeks ago, people she did not know. She cursed them under her breath as she gathered some candles and searched for keys to the truck parked outside. If they had bothered to keep their pantry stocked and boxes sealed she would have found more things useful for her.

“Huzzah!” The cheer brought the dog running to her side, wagging his tail as keys jingled in her hand.

Absently, she ran her hand along his too thin back as she moved back into the house, grabbing up what few boxes of pasta she found. The dog followed. She took them to the small back seat of the truck outside. The dog followed. She quickly grabbed the jugs of water, all three and went back outside, putting them inside the truck as well. The dog followed.

“Are you going to follow me everywhere?” The dog barked and she rolled her eyes. The dog danced around her once more before jumping into the passenger seat. “No, get out. I’m not taking you with.”

The dog barked.

“Out.” As if to drive her point home, she pointed to the ground next to her.

The dog barked.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Deanna came to the realization that she now had a dog. This was how people ended up cat owners but apparently it works for dogs in this new world. Turning, she went back into the house to rummage through the kitchen, looking for containers to put the dog’s food in.

It took some time but she was able to stumble upon a few larger containers. It would have to do for now until she could scavenge something something that would fit better. She scooped up the spilled food the best she could and tossed in the dog’s food and water dishes. The last thing she needed was one more thing to take care of while she waited a few weeks for the world to start righting itself. It would just be a few more weeks, wouldn’t it?

The power gird in this town had failed and so she wanted to get a move on quickly. She wouldn’t waste her time looking through freezers for supplies- everything would be spoiled. Meat turned quickly and flies would be buzzing about. Part of her mind wanted to remind her what else flies would be buzzing about in some of the homes but she pushed it away. Thoughts like that did no good.

While from what she had seen the small city looked to be abandoned, she knew better than to trust in it. A truck driving around could draw attention during the day but the lights needed to navigate the dark streets would draw even more eyes toward her. It was all a balance of risks.

With the dog in the passenger seat, she pulled out of the drive. The trip to the town was uneventful, all in all. The road into town was smooth and yet she still kept a slow pace. It was better, slower movement drew less attention. On her hip sat the pistol that had become her constant companion. The dog whined and drew her eyes to him. It looks like she has a new companion, one that she wouldn’t feel bad talking to.

Without much thought she turned into a garden store. It was large and greenhouses were lined up outside, covered in a heavy dust. The doors were locked but much like the house she had just come from, it looked just as abandoned as the house she had just come from. A large rock made breaking the glass door easy enough.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

The trip to New York felt like a waste of time. It was so largely unproductive that it was frankly comical. It had been creepy and unsettling to be flying through American airspace and not having a single plane on the radar. They had yet to manage to get in touch with Tony and the simply reality that none of them wanted to face was that he could be dead.

Dr. Stephen Strange could be dead. Peter Parker could be dead. Tony could be dead.

If Clint could have his whole family turn to dust, it wasn’t unreasonable to fear the same for Tony, Strange and Peter. That was assuming that where ever they had ended up in the space doughnut, they survived long enough to be dusted in the snap. There were other more painful ways to die.

Now as his boots kicked up the layer of dust that had settled on his field, he walked away from the small jet. It was hard not to think about what that dust had been. As the days went by, it got harder to ignore the haze in the distance. In a way it was almost nice to be back at his home, away from the heavy dust cloud that clung to the cluster of buildings that was New York City.

The air was hard to breath in the city. The team had worked hard through their worry, pain and defeat to quickly distribute masks to all those they could locate but there were still many suffering from the poor air quality. It was just one more way Thanos was claiming lives of people who had already suffered so much from the repercussions of his actions.

Those with compromised breathing were dropping like flies in areas with dense populations and what remained of The Avengers were only working the east coast. The dust was found to behave much like ash when mixed with water. The paste that would form in the lungs if exposed to too much air born dust was much like concrete, thickening until they suffocated on the goop.

Clint sat down on the dusty ground in front of the shed he had been sleeping in for the better part of the last two weeks and tried to pull himself together. It seemed he was always on the edge of breaking down, shattering into a million pieces. He couldn’t stomach the thought of going into the farmhouse, to sleep in the bed he shared with Laura when they were all gone. Sleep had been fleeting at the best of times.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night he would wake swearing that he had heard them. In his sleep deprived state he would search the farmhouse, search the lands and never find them. He would spend hours searching, making his way into the town at times. His anguished screams when he realized what he was convinced had surely been a twisted nightmare brought on by too much work and coffee was a reality he wanted no part in would echo over the hills during the night.


	5. When in Rome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, gun violence, death

The dog bounded over the shards, easily clearing the glass spilled on the ground after Deanna had knocked the shards free from the door. The sunlight filled the warehouse as best it could from the large windows that lined the front of the store. Still, it did little to banish the darkness from deep aisles.

Looking around, she found the place creepy. It wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be. Closing her eyes for a moment she tried to tell herself she was back home, she would wake and find her children safe in their beds. They would get ready for school that morning and later they would have a birthday party. They would smile at her then do something to get on her nerves toward the end of the night before they fell asleep and she enjoyed a glass of wine.

She would snap at them, yell at them. They would cry and everyone would be tired. In the moment she would feel like a terrible mother. She would give anything to lose her temper with the children one more time, to yell at them one more time. She would trade everything to have the tears in their eyes make her feel like the world’s worst parent.

A bark echoed through the abandoned building. The sound shattered the fantasy around her, much like the glass under her boots. This was the new system of things and while she would give anything to have her kids with her, to see their faces just one more time, to hear their voices and feel the warmth of their hugs- she could never wish this world upon them.

It occurred to her not for the first time that she would have preferred to be on the bus with them, to burn with them, to have died with them than live in this world. She could end it now, she knew. However the simple fact was that she was too much of a coward to do so though the thought plagued her every night.

Slowly, she made her way up and down the rows of shelves with a cart. It felt almost sinfully normal. If not for the clicking of the dog’s nails on the linoleum floor and darkness, she could pretend it was normal. She could close her eyes and almost pretend there were employees manning the registers and other customers milling about. Almost.

A proper toolkit was tossed into the basket along with large box of nails and screws. She didn’t really have plans for the items but they could be useful just the same. A handsaw joined the items. She wasn’t sure really what she’d do with the things or if she really needed them. But she knew she could potentially need them and that was a good enough reason to have them, right?

A neon green display caught her eye and a pointless fear washed over her. Flat tire repair kits glared at her. It was a possibility she hadn’t even considered but could very well happen. She tossed six kits into the cart, unsure if they would even work for the RV’s tires. Simply having them made her feel better. There were so many potential issues that she hadn’t even thought of yet. What else had escaped her attention?

It was outside in the garden center that she found what she hadn’t been sure she was looking for. Plants were mostly still growing left and right, the natural environment seemed to have been kind enough to them. On the far wall were stacks of ‘do it yourself’ greenhouse kits.

She spent more time than she wanted to looking at the kits, ripping boxes open and checking how strong they seemed to be. What she settled on was clearly intended to be stationary but with enough tow straps perhaps just maybe she could make it work. It was heavy, so damn heavy that it felt like it took hours to wrestle it onto the cart. How the hell she would get it in the truck bed was a question for another hour.

Sweat poured down her face as she huffed and panted. Next to her, the dog panted. She felt like was going to die. With determination that surprised her, she pushed herself up off the ground and made her way to a cooler that had lost power and grabbed out a few bottles of warm water. A decorative pot made a good enough bowl for the dog and she dumped one bottle in for him before downing almost half her own in one go.

“You trust me, eh?” She asked the dog who only wagged his tail. “Trust- how’s that for a name?” With a woof it was decided.

After failing to work the box into the bed of the truck, she ended up opening it and unloading it piece by piece. It took time, longer than she had ever wanted to spend in the town. Once done, she took the cart back inside, dog on her heels.

Walking up and down the plant filled rows, she picked out what seemed like the best choices. Broccoli, leafy greens, squash and a cherry tomato plant that already was heavy with fruit beginning to turn red. The rest would come along, at least she hoped. After doubting for a few long moments she wrested a small citrus tree and apple tree into the cart. If they could or would produce fruit for her in a moving greenhouse, she didn’t know but the risk was worth taking. If she could keep them alive even until she found somewhere to settle, they could still prove valuable.

She grabbed soil and deep rectangular pots, more than she thought she could need. Fertilizer was added to the cart. The last thing she grabbed before returning to the truck was seeds for produce- all of them. Peppers, carrots, tomatoes, squash, pumpkins and melons. She didn’t care. Not a single packet of seeds was left on the shelf when she left.

That night, she slept restlessly. It was far too late to build the greenhouse when she made it back and instead, she had to hope no one would find her and take what she had found. Still, the weight of a dog sleeping against her legs was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. When she wasn’t sleeping, she cried into Aurora’s stuffed fox and Frankie’s blanket as she clutched them both to her chest.

Deanna had survived the second week of the new system and was well into her third week.

~~~~~<3

Morning came and with it dark clouds, heavy with rain in the distance. A sigh slipped out of her lips as she sat up in the bed, Trust was cuddled close to her. This was the 17th morning of the new world and mornings felt less jarring as each one passed her by.

She had established a routine that had served her well. Before getting out of the bed she looked out of the three windows that surrounded her and checked for threats. The truck was where she left it as was the plants, leafs rustling in the breeze and greenhouse parts stacked neatly to the side. Very good.

She made her way out into the living space and checked outside the rest of the windows. Once she was satisfied that she was as alone as she expected to be, she opened the curtains and started the coffee pot. While the magical liquid brewed, she changed and made her way outside with Trust at her side.

Popping the lid off on of the five gallon buckets she had grabbed at the last minute from the store, she began dumping container after container of dog food into the bins. A whine by her side reminded her that Trust was probably still half starved and waiting for food. She filled his food and water bowl, feeling guilty for not doing so the night before. When they were empty, she filled them again. In time she would have to make sure his food lasted but not right now, not for a few days.

Going back inside she made herself a cup of coffee, tossed some bread in the oven to toast up while she sliced an apple. With the dried out almost toast pulled out of the oven she smeared a healthy serving of peanut butter and set the thin slices of apple on top. This had become her typical breakfast, a cup of coffee and fruit topped toast eaten while sitting in the doorway looking at the haze in the sky.

With breakfast out of the way, she set about building the greenhouse atop the trailer. As she wrestled pieces in place, sometimes having to move the truck to use as a ladder and step to reach things, she was sure she was going to accidentally kill herself. Thunder crashed in the distance and the wind was just starting to pick up, blowing dust, dirt and leaves into her eyes.

The sky darkened as she used strap after strap to try and secure the greenhouse down onto the trailer. If it would work in the long run, she had no idea. But as she rammed into it with her shoulder from each side, it remained firm. The sun was now hidden behind the heavy clouds and the wind had a chill to it. The storm was rolling in quickly.

Deanna unrolled the awning, hoping that the wind wouldn’t make her regret it and slowly shuffled bags of potting soil and plants under the cover as the rain began falling. It started slowly, lightly at first and she shooed Trust into the RV. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as the rain splashed on her skin though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

The rain was pouring when she finally had everything under the awning. Grabbing the keys to the truck, she jumped inside and started the engine. It was then that she finally saw why the rain disgusted her so. Running down the windshield in gray rivers was the rain. At first she assumed it was just dust that had settled on the truck while it had been sitting for the last two weeks but looking down at her hands she found the same slightly oily gray water pooled in droplets on her skin.

The rain was pulling the dust from the air and sending the remains of those who had been turned to dust back to the ground from which they had come. In a rush she tried to push the water off her, pushed her sopping wet hair off her face. She didn’t want to touch the water, to have it be on her. It took longer than she wanted to admit to calm herself and move the truck so that she wouldn’t have to walk into the rain when she left.

She sat in the truck for a few moments longer, praying that the rain would let up. Unsurprisingly, it did not. With the way the clouds looked, she wouldn’t be surprised at all if it remained steady for the rest of the day. At least she had gotten the greenhouse finished.

With one last deep breath, she got out of the truck and set about going back to work. She thought about letting Trust out but he didn’t need this weird water on him. She didn’t even want to get it on her. But this was the new world and apparently this was the new rain.

Slowly, she set about moving the large pots into the greenhouse. She slipped them into position along the sides of the greenhouse. Smaller pots were placed on the shelf above above the larger ones as rain pattered against the greenhouse.

Next she hauled the dirt in and planted what she could, planting the greens on the shallower pots on the shelf and wrestling the large potted trees into the back where she moved them into even larger pots. As she moved the heavy bags of soil, rain poured down her face and dripped into her mouth and eyes. The water burned her eyes and left an oily taste in her mouth that caused her to retch.

The greenhouse didn’t fit as much as she wanted, but it would do. Some fresh produce was better than none. Looking around, she realized that the pots would slide around and fall over as she drove. A trip back to the warehouse was going to be required before she left.

After a shower she felt much better. She took her time brushing her hair and pulling it back into a braid. A notebook was set on the table where she had wrote down the measurements needed for the homemade framework that would secure the pots and keep them from sliding. On the stove, a pot of rice bubbled and cooked next to a small chicken breast in a pan. She had moved Trust’s bowls into the camper on her way in and as she waited for her food to cook, she had forgotten about the large dog sleeping on the other side of the U bench.

When he growled, it shocked her. Her knee bashed against the underside of the table as she jumped in a panic, she cursed and told the dog to hush. Instead he stood tall on the bench, hackles raised.

“What is it?” Looking outside, she didn’t see anything but Trust darted around toward the cab where he continued to act aggressively.

Deanna switched off the burners and grabbed the gun off the table. Though she tried to listen, all she could hear is the sound of the rain and Trust’s growling. Out of nowhere came banging on the door. The whole RV rocked with the force of the hits.

When they couldn’t get the door open they moved to try the driver’s door on the cab. She hissed a whispered order at Trust to hush up and be still. When the dog did as she told, at least for the most part, Deanna said a silent prayer to a god she wasn’t sure she even believed in anymore. With the gun gripped in her hand she unlocked the door and stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She yelled and the man came running around. His hair was plastered to his face and his eyes looked wild.

“Give it to me.” He said and held his hands out.

“I have nothing for you. Leave.”

“Give me it. Give me everything. I have to have it.” He took a step forward and the pipe clutched in his hand came into view. The end was dark and Deanna told herself over and over that it was colored with dirt. Just dirt. Only dirt. Dirt wasn’t typically red.

“Don’t come any closer.” The man was walking, circling wide and she prayed as he moved away from the cab that he would leave. Instead he rushed a few steps forward, swinging his pipe. “Get back!” Deanna yelled as she blindly jerked her gun up and pointed toward the man before jerking it toward the right.

She fired off into the woods as a warning. In the last few days she had occasionally had run ins with other people and when they found that she would fire the weapon they would leave. In this new world where everyone was trying to survive, it was best to not pick a fight with someone who would fight back. Any sign of a fight was enough to know that they should leave.

He didn’t leave.

“Give me everything!”

It all happened so fast. Deanna wished she could say she didn’t remember making the choice. She wished she could say that it was reflex and panic. But that would be a lie. She made the decision herself to pull the trigger.

The man however kept yelling even as he put his hand to his stomach to be covered in blood. He swung the pipe and continued forward so she pulled the trigger again and again until he fell to his knees then to his side just under the awning.

Deanna stood there stunned for a few moments. She couldn’t say what she was waiting for. Perhaps she waited for him to move, to jump up and continue his attack. He did not.

Slowly she moved forward, toward the man’s still form. Her hands shook as she reached out and pushed on his shoulder. He didn’t make even a sound. A backpack was on his back, looking full and heavy and she opened it. Inside was cans of infant formula, some busted open from bullets that passed through his body or the way he had landed when he fell, she couldn’t be sure- didn’t want to be sure.

“Water. Dara.” He whispered and she scooted back in a blind panic.

She scrambled back toward RV. For a few minutes she sat with her back against the cool metal before she went inside and locked the door behind her. She turned on the burners and allowed her still warm food to finish cooking while she sat in a numb silence, gun sitting on the table like a viper.

She didn’t think she would have been able to eat, but she did. She hadn’t looked outside since she had locked the door and finally, as she washed up her dishes, she peeked. The rain had slowed but not stopped and the man was right where she left him. She had to do something about his body. She didn’t know what would be drawn to it.

Dara. The name kept circling in her mind along with the baby formula. It wouldn’t let her rest until she went back out. Each intact can of formula was set to the side and at the bottom of the bag she found a wallet. The man’s name was Markus and he had a local address.

~~~~~<3

Clint stood in the morning light of the 18th day since his family turned to dust. The sun was rising but he didn’t pay it much mind. Behind him on the ground was the unconscious body of the man who had tried to stop him from taking the last cans from the grocery store.

As he loaded up what food he found, he ignored the guilt that tried to wash over him. He had told people to leave, go south toward better areas and make themselves homesteads and they didn’t listen. Sure, if he called the team and said he needed support they would send him some.

He couldn’t do that however. How could he ask them for help when they were already doing the best they could to distribute aid and keep peace along the east coast and he was here, doing nothing. Clint Barton wasn’t helping save people from unrest. He wasn’t making sure those in need had supplies.

No, he was beating a man for the last of the can goods in the small town closest to his home. He was refusing to leave the place he had last seen his family.

All he could do was check in with the team every few days and ask the question he already knew the answer to- “Any leads on how to undo this?” The answer was always ‘nothing yet’. No one could stomach saying ‘no’.


	6. Hope (For The Baby)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Depictions of death and decomposition of persons of various age groups. Unhealthy thoughts and persons wishing they were dead without suicidal inclinations or intent.

19 days post decimation

~~~~~<3

Deanna was thankful to see the clouds let up as she sat in the doorway. It had been over two days of constant rain and she knew she needed to move on. Surely the body that was rolled into the ditch not nearly far enough away for comfort was beginning to rot in the wet weather. Before long, it would start to smell, even from across dirt road.

It was easier to think of him as ‘just a body’ and ‘it’. Still sitting under the awning by the door was it’s backpack. She couldn’t bear to think of it as a ‘him’ let alone by name. The cans of formula haunted her thoughts. Out somewhere in this town was a baby waiting for someone to bring it more food and she was the reason why they would starve.

It was mid-morning before she gave in and tossed the backpack onto the floor in front of the passenger seat of the truck. With a whistle, she called Trust over and he happily jumped into the seat and waited patiently for her to climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine. It felt so close to normal.

It a long time to find the house. She could have stopped at a gas station and gotten a map rather than driving around aimlessly in the still seemingly deserted town but she didn’t. Somewhere deep down inside her, she knew if she stopped before finding his home she wouldn’t finish the task at hand. She prayed to a god she was sure didn’t care that the baby was okay, that she hadn’t killed some innocent child.

She wasn’t able to save her own kids but she wouldn’t be the reason this little one died too. Surely the man wouldn’t have left a baby alone. Someone had to be caring for it. It was something she told herself over and over again. It was something she needed to believe in.

Absently she wondered if it would be more useful to pray to Thor or Loki- at least she knew they were real. No one really knew the extent of their powers but at least Thor seemed to care for mankind. It was insanity. She surely had gone crazy by now so did it really matter who she prayed to?

It was nearing five according to the clock in the truck when she found the street. From there, it took no time at all to find the house. It was a small ranch style home within a trailer park. When she had been looking at homes, seemingly a lifetime ago when she was married and her life looked full of promise she remembered being told that trailers were no longer being manufactured and that instead they made prefabricated manufactured homes that were comparable in size and style while giving a slightly more traditional appearance. To her they still looked like trailers when situated on small lots, crammed close together, though.

Getting out of the car shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. Instead, she sat in the truck with the engine off until Trust started whining and yipping. If not for him, she couldn’t say how long she would have sat there before slowly climbing out. It felt like she was going to her death.

With the backpack slung over one shoulder, she walked up the neat little cobble stairs, one slow step at a time. In between each stone the weeds and grass had started to overgrow. It had once been a well cared for front yard and the signs of the loving care are still clear to see after over two weeks. Yet you could just begin to see the signs of nature reclaiming what had once been man’s.

The door was cracked open and there was no signs of anyone being alive in the trailer let alone in the park overall. The silence was deafening at first but she had begun to adjust to it. Surely those who also survived where surely becoming used to the silence much like her.

“Hello?” She called out, for the first time intentionally drawing attention to herself. Trust was calm and peaceful by her side. “Anyone here?”

Nothing but silence answered her. Carefully she pushed open the door. The house was dark inside. The windows had the curtains drawn over them and the air was still. Trust stayed close to her heels as she walked into the room, each step carefully measured. In her heart she prayed that a mother would turn out of the hall with a baby in her arms and that the trip wasn’t wasted, that she could give the formula to the baby it was intended for to make up for her sins.

Trust was close on her heels as she closed the door behind her, always better to have doors closed and locked in order to prevent someone else from coming in. There was a stench to the air telling her that the freezer was likely well stocked with meat and the power had been out for a while. It was a smell that she had begun to get used to as she raided houses for supplies.

The living room was empty, as was the kitchen and small dining room. There was a door at one end of the living space and a small hall across the living room from it. Making her way down the hall she found a small library with a cozy chair and a surprising number of books. While she liked to pretend she wasn’t one for stereotypes, she didn’t peg those who lived in a trailer park to be the kind that would have a room dedicated to heavy books.

Across the hall from the door to the library was a small bathroom. Automatically Deanna went to the medicine cabinet, checking for antibiotics and finding none. Without much thought, she opened the door at the end of the hall. Behind this door was a nursery with frilly white lace and soft pink blankets. The walls were a blush pink and a plush blanket was draped over the rail of the crib.

The only thing missing was the baby.

On the small table by the door was a bottle. Picking it up she found the milk had long gone sour. Again and again she tried to tell herself that it meant nothing, even as she set the bottle back on the dust covered table. Deanna made her way back across the small living space and toward the last unopened door as her heart thumped in her chest.

She expected that the room would be as empty as the rest of the house. Trust had not raised any alarm or acted as if anything was off. However when she slowly swung the door open the scent of rot was instantly so much stronger than in even the kitchen.

Yet she did not turn away.

On the center of the bed rested a baby in a dark blue jumper with pink flowers on the feet. The first thought to cross her mind was that for whatever reason the man must have left meat out in the bedroom. The second thought was how irresponsible it was to leave a baby alone in the middle of a full size bed with rotting meat in the room. She stepped closer without thinking, intending to retrieve the baby from the stench, to protect the little girl.

It was only when she reached out that she realized there was no meat left to rot in the room. When she reached out and grazed her fingers against the baby’s leg the full horror of what she saw dawned on her.

The little girl was gone. Deanna wanted to blame herself for it. If only she hadn’t killed that man, this little one would still live. Yet as she looked down at the baby’s bloated body, she knew it wasn’t her fault. The child had been gone for far longer than the two days she had been alone. The stench was overwhelming now that she realized that what it was she was smelling was the smell of a small body decomposing.

A sob tore through her as she backed away from the bed and out of the room. The backpack fell from her shoulder as her legs collided with the overstuffed recliner in the living room. She fell hard over the arm and clumsily rolled out of it and onto the floor. Trust was at her side in a matter of moments.

The warmth of the dog’s tongue on her arm helped draw her out of the panic that was crowding her mind. It was grounding and drew her arms around the dog’s still too thin frame. Her fingers dug into Trust’s thick coat and choked sobs ripped from her chest. Though the sobs were violent, no tears managed to fall from her eyes.

There was nothing more she wanted then to go home. She wanted to go to the house she rented for her and her children. She wanted to surround herself with their things and the smell of them. There was nothing she wouldn’t give in that moment to return to that safe place where things almost made sense and she could pretend life would go on.

It took a while to get her breathing under control but Trust was patient just the same. She stood on shaking legs and made her way out the front door, leaving it wide open behind her. Once she was back to the RV she packed up and secured everything and without a thought to the untested makeshift racks holding the pots into place, she started the engine and pulled out onto the road.

~~~~~<3

Day 22 post decimation

~~~~~<3

Clint’s back ached in a way that it never had before. Perhaps it was his age catching up with him. What he did know was that ten years ago spending three weeks sleeping on hay, tarps and old blankets wouldn’t have fucked up his back nearly this much. Hell, he wouldn’t even be in this much pain five years ago. Now he was sitting on the porch wondering if any chiropractors within a hundred miles survived the decimation.

Coffee sounded amazing. He hadn’t had a cup in a week. He could just power up the generator and make a pot. Still, the idea of going into what until three weeks ago had been the family home made his stomach toss. He could always go into town and make coffee somewhere. It was something he’d done a few times when he would wake up from his nightmare induced half mad searches for his family.

He was busy trying to will himself into going into the main house when his phone came to life in his pocket. Thanks to the small generator in the shed he had managed to keep it alive but many of the towers were down resulting in spotty coverage at best. The only reason a call would go through was his own personal tower that kept him connected to Stark’s systems.

“Yes?”

“Tony’s back.” Natasha wasted no time.

“How is he?” Clint leaned back against the steps, letting the edges push into his back. A groan slipped out of him when his back popped. He hadn’t spoken to Tony since the battle in the airport with the exception of a snide comment from his holding cell. When he had been released to house arrest, Clint had fully expected the self powering arc reactor generator and small cell tower to be gone from the Barton property but they were not.

“Not good.” Nat admitted.

“What happened up there?”

“We haven’t been able to get a full story- he’s only been back for an hour. He’s in rough shape. Got stabbed. Dehydrated. Malnourished.”

“Two outta three he’s been through before.” It was a joke, in bad taste but Natasha still offered a brittle chuckle. It was dark humor that made their jobs easier to survive. You had to smile when you could. You had to laugh when you could.

“Yeah. He blames Steve. Yelled at him.”

“What about…”

“He doesn’t blame you.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“What do you think you could have done?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Nothing. There was nothing. I’ve gone over it time and time again. Are there things I wish we did differently? Yeah. But I don’t think if we only changed you it would have been enough to win it.”

“But you can’t know that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. No one can.”

“I know.” Clint sighed. “What’s done is done and all that.”

“Tony- he came back with two other people. They- They think they can find Thanos. One of them- Carol, thinks she can beat him, get the stones and ideally undo it. We’re talking about doing it- trying it.”

“Just tell me when and were.” Clint was on his feet in a blink. His heavy boots took him across the porch and for the first time in nearly a month, his hand was on the doorknob to his home.

“Clint.” There was a sharpness to her voice that he almost missed over the creaking of the hinges. “I’ll keep you updated but I don’t think it’s best if you go.”

He remembered the rest of the phone call though a dreamlike haze as he sat at the dining table. Again and again he told himself he had to have hope, had to trust in this Carol. More than anything he had to trust in Nat. She knew him in some ways better than his own wife had. He had to trust in her.

Though he had tired to hide his struggles, clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job of it. Nat noticed. It shouldn’t have surprised him, she noticed everything. Still it was a bitter pill to swallow knowing that unless she changed her mind he would once again be excluded from the mission.

He had something now that he hadn’t had before. There was a reason to start up the main generator. He had a reason to go on, to see to it he was in the best condition possible. It was such a simple thing that he was lacking. Hope was an amazing thing.

Hope gave him a reason to clean out the spoiled food. Hope gave him a reason to shower and change into a clean pair of clothes rather than continuing to wash in the stream that flowed nearby. Hope gave him a reason to tend Laura’s garden.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Three weeks. It had been a long three weeks. Deanna was amazed that she was still alive. She was stronger now, braver now. Still when she slept at night she would see that baby girl laying cradled in the arms of her father. That was her one regret from Utah, her only regret. She wished she had been strong enough to pick up the baby and take her to her father.

She didn’t regret killing him. It was clear that he was driven mad with grief. It was a kindness, really, what she had done for him. She was beyond thankful for the years she had with her children but she couldn’t imagine bringing them along into this world.

This world was too harsh for them. It was bitter and vile and nothing but a shadow of what it had been. They didn’t deserve to have to grow up in this world. They didn’t deserve to know what death looked like. They didn’t deserve to know what it looked like when their mother shot a man.

In a weird sort of way she realized she was thankful that they were not here with her. It didn’t make their absence hurt less. It didn’t stop her from clutching their things to her chest as she slept on the bare mattress at night. It didn’t stop her from waking in a cold sweat from nightmares of their screams.

If she could change one thing- that thing not being the event of the Decimation itself- she would give anything to be on that bus with her children. She wouldn’t have taken them off that bus and the realization didn’t hurt how she expected it to. If she was on the bus with them, she could have held them. Comforted them as it happened. If she was with them they could have been in their mother’s arms during their last moments. They could have had their mother’s love when they were scared and in pain.

That was how she wanted to die, with her arms around her children and leaving the new world behind. She wouldn’t have to know the pain and sorrow of not even having their remains to put to rest. She wouldn’t know that the people she trusted to educate and take care of her children during the school day would quickly become cold blooded killers. She wouldn’t have to know that she could kill a man, that she would. She wouldn’t have to know that she could live with herself after, that she didn’t even feel bad.

It would have been so much better to have been burned with her children. But she didn’t. And it wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to live in this world any more than they did. She didn’t deserve this. But it didn’t matter what she deserved. If there was a Christian God, he certainly didn’t agree with her assessment of what she deserved.

Trust put his head on her stomach and huffed a warm breath in her face, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. He had become a grounding force since she had found him. He gave her a reason to get up and move each morning. He needed her and in exchange he watched her back.

Being needed was enough to get her to sit up in bed. Carefully, she folded the blanket and set it in the small cabinet by the bed with the stuffed fox on top. She dressed in a clean (as clean as clothes got anymore at least) pair of jeans and a tank top, not wanting to waste any water on a shower. As she did every morning, she checked outside each window before opening the curtains.

It was automatic, each morning she dressed, checked outside, opened the curtains. She missed having toast for breakfast but her bread had run out. It was just as well, after three weeks it wouldn’t surprise her if it molded. Instead she put some instant oatmeal in a bowl, mixed in the water and popped it in the microwave to cook while she brushed her teeth.

Yesterday she had met a man who lived on a farm. He was kind enough though she kept a gun within reach at all times. His farm was near a river and he was managing well enough, all things considered. He had been lucky, a widower who had no kids of his own so he had only lost a few friends.

He allowed her to park on his land and was willing to barter. She was able to drain her tank of pond water into his crops and fill it with clean well water that she could drink after flushing the tank out and it only cost her a bottle of antibiotics, of which she had many.

The man, Scott had been reluctant to leave his farm where he was safe but knew the danger of infection in the new world. The farm a few miles down the road was vacant and he had spoken of how the woman who had lived there had a terrible scrape from falling in her field. Infection quickly took over and spread. She hadn’t lasted long and he didn’t want to follow the same fate.

Without power, he was carefully rationing his fuel for his generator. He did all of his cooking over fires outside and had remarked how lucky she was to have such luxuries as a microwave. Yet he made no attempt to take from her more than they agreed on and she was thankful for it.

For a jar of yeast he had given her a portion of his early harvest consisting of a handful of peaches, apples, bunches of celery, a strawberry plant and blueberry plant, both already heavy with fruit.

He had been kind but guarded, as had she. Neither was sure if they could trust the other but each needing something from each other. This was the way of the new world. Those who could adjust could survive.

The microwave beeped and she pulled the bowl out and set it to the side while she cut up half a peach to add. It was another almost normal normal morning and she felt nothing except the warm press of Trust’s nose against her hand.

Trust needed more food and she could do with a proper bedding set. Cities seemed to have better pickings for these sort of items but in exchange for them she had to risk the increased violence. Regardless, it was about time she considered meandering to Kansas City.


	7. When what’s done cannot be undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: passing mention of dead bodies of children and adults without much detail, mentions of major traffic accident in passing. Beyond that, canon typical mental and emotional trauma.

August 20th, 30 days post decimation.

~~~~~<3

The RV was parked near a river somewhere toward central Kansas. The sky was clear for the most part and the haze was beginning to lighten in the morning air. It had been a month since the day the world changed and Deanna was sitting on the bank of the river. Toward the center of the calmly flowing river, a large fix slashed to the surface only to disappear again. It was a pleasant sight, wildlife had been a rare sight in the last few weeks.

In her lap was a warm bowl of oatmeal and next to her was a mug of coffee. Behind her, Trust chased ducks and if they were lucky, he would maybe even catch one. It was peaceful and relaxing.

Setting the bowl aside, she leaned back and rested her head down against the grass. She relaxed and enjoyed the soft breeze. It was these days where she remained in one place that she felt peaceful. She would always move on when she got tired of where she was and that too was nice. As long as she felt isolated and safe at the moment, it was nice. Trust’s company was almost enough to keep her from feeling lonely.

With coffee and oatmeal finished, she set about tending her travel garden. The cherry tomato plant was heavy with fruit and she made a note that she needed to see if she could trade some of them. With a bowl sitting on her kitchen counter filled with them, she had to start thinking about picking up a book on canning. That was assuming she could even find jars.

It was a strange thought. She could dice up tomatoes, cook them and can them for use later or even for trade. She could make sauces and can them. It was strange, how she was becoming accustomed to parts of this new world.

Now she was filling the bowl with the makings of a fairly decent salad with snap peas and celery with a few types of lettuce. Add the tomatoes and croutons- something she had been saving in the hope that her garden would succeed. With her large bowl inside, she set about cutting up vegetables and opening up a can of chicken. Toss in a handful of raisins and some dressing out of one of the handful she had stockpiled.

With that, her mid-morning meal taken care of, she had the rest of the day to check her stocks and plan for the weeks ahead and hopefully figure out a way to store her extra produce.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Clint was in the garden doing something he hoped would resemble a good enough job to keep Laura from skinning him alive when his phone came to life. The only things she loved more than that garden was the children. Clint was pretty sure he ranked somewhere under the brand new mattress he got her a few months ago on the list of things she loved and that was just fine with him.

“Yes.”

“-nt” The line was fill of static. “-n you -ear me?”

“Natasha?”

“-ear me?”

“We’ve got a lot of interference.” The static got worse and he had to hold the phone from his ear before it died down.

“Better?” The static was still there but he could at least understand what she was saying.

“Yeah. Where are you? Any word on when the mission takes off?”

“About that. We took off.” From apparently space, Natasha’s voice was carrying just a hint of the guilt he knew she would be carrying.

“Guess you decided I’m out on this one too.” Clint tried to school his voice. How successful he was at it would be a whole different question.

“You’re too close to this.”

“And the rest of you aren’t?” There was a bite in his words and he didn’t regret it as much as he wanted to, as he should have.

“Valid point.” She sighed, “If we could go back and get you, I would. But it’s too late.”

“You’re already wheels up.” Clint clarified as if she hadn’t already said that. “I get it.” He didn’t, but it didn’t hurt to say even if he knew she wouldn’t believe it.

“We’re moving in on him in about thirty. We’re going to do it, Clint. It’s going to work.”

“It has to.”

“Be ready. When we bring them back, we don’t know what they’ll remember. We’re hoping that they will be right where they disappeared at least.”

“But there isn’t a manual for this. I’ll be ready.”

“You’re our eyes on the ground. When they come back, make sure your family are good then meet us in New York to brief us on the situation on the ground.”

“Will do.” Clint wasn’t sure if they were still connected when the static faded out. “You’ve got to bring them back to me, Nat. I need them.”

~~~~~<3

Clint spent the day in the field waiting. Thirty minutes seemed to drag by one second at a time. Then another thirty minutes inched by. He told himself again and again that missions go sideways all the time. Just because it didn’t happen right away didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen. They were going in in thirty but the mission could take longer the complete. It was fine.

A hour passed. Than another. He sat in that field all day and long into the night. The sunset hadn’t offered him any comfort as it painted the sky full of oranges and reds. Neither did the night sky full of winking stars teasing him, as if they knew something he didn’t.

He watched the moon’s rise. While he sat in he grass, he watched as it slowly made it’s journey through the sky. When the horizon began to lighten again, he felt the hopelessness clawing at the back of his mind. It was then that he realized Nat was right, he was too close to have been a safe bet. Still, he would give damn near anything to have word from her, to be updated on the current situation.

His phone came to life in his pocket. Ask and you shall receive, or so it seemed.

“Yes?” If it was a wrong number so help him, he would hunt them down and kill them himself.

“Clint.” It was Nat and she didn’t sound good.

“They’re not here.”

“You need to meet us in New York.”

“What’s going on?”

“You need to meet us. We’ll be there in a few hours. Be there.”

~~~~~<3

August 21st, 31 Days Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

Clint stood outside near the landing pad, as close as he dared to get at least. He’d been there for over an hour when they finally landed and the day was begging to come to a close in the world around him.

A stark white mask covered his mouth and nose, protecting him from the dust that the wind was blowing in from the city off in the distance. The dust was still dangerous to breeth when the wind got to whipping it off the ground in areas such as New York City and no one could say how long that would continue to be the case.

At the very least, the more the dust was blown out of the city, the sooner it would settle and become mixed into the soil. The compound was silent and largely empty behind him. He had tried to find Tony but he wasn’t anywhere within the building. That was a good thing, he needed to be resting, recovering. Still, Clint had wished he could speak to him though he wasn’t sure what he would say.

The ship’s door opened and slowly, the crew disembarked. None looked happy. Each glanced up at him and quickly looked away. It was clear whatever had happened, none of them would be willing to meet his gaze for some time.

“Nat.” She looked tired and just as defeated as all the others. Yet none actually looked harmed. “Talk to me.”

“Let’s go for a walk.” He didn’t want to go for a walk. Regardless, he followed her without complaint.

The wind calmed and Clint pulled the mask from his face. They walked out, away from the modern building behind him and out into the field. They walked until the grass that had until a month ago been carefully maintained gave way to the occasional tree.

It was under the shade of one of these trees that Nat sat, still not taking more than a fleeting glance at him. Every muscle in his body was wound tight. This wasn’t right. They should be celebrating. If they failed they should be planning a second strike. They should be doing something. Anything.

“Sit down.” Nat requested. And so he did. “Thanos is dead.”

“Okay.” His answer was guarded, careful. “That’s a good thing.”

“It is.”

“But?”

“We can’t undo it.”

“Why not?” The question came out louder than he intended.

“The stones are gone.”

“How can they be gone?” Clint was on his feet, voice climbing uncharacteristically. “We’ll just have to find them again.”

“They’re gone, Clint. Destroyed.” She sounded so damn tired.

“They’re Infinity Stones! They CAN’T be destroyed!”

“He used the stones to destroy the stones. That was the wave of power we followed. We’re too late. They’re gone Clint. They’re gone and they’re not coming back. I’m sorry. It’s over. I’m so sorry.”

Nat curled into herself, allowing herself a moment of weakness outside of the eyes of everyone else. Except him. She trusted him enough to allow him to see her as she put her forehead on her knees and allowed herself a few shuddering breaths. He couldn’t see it but he knew tears were slipping down her cheeks.

“What happened up there?” Clint carefully asked. He needed to know, though to be honest it wasn’t something he wanted to know at all. If he didn’t know, perhaps he could pretend they were wrong, that it was a mistake.

“We got there and god- We went to space. A whole different planet and- I mean, I know Thor isn’t human, he’s from space but to see a whole different world. The plants, the weather even the sky looked different. We got there and there was a cabin- a piece of shit cabin in the middle of the field.”

“Okay.” Clint sat next to her, draping his arm over her slumped shoulders. As much as he wanted to leave so he could deal with the emotions at war within him, Nat needed him now.

“He was there. And the stones were gone and he didn’t fight us. He was living in a broken down cabin. He said- He told us that he used the stones to destroy them.”

“And you believe him?” Clint flinched, the question came out harsher than he intended.

“He had no reason to lie. He wasn’t defending himself. Then Thor- We should have took you. Thor just out of nowhere- he swung his ax and it was over. It is over. Thanos is dead. It’s just… over. We lost. He’s dead but we still lost. They’re not coming back. We can’t get them back. We lost.”

Clint didn’t say anything. He held her against his side as she shook and fell apart slowly. Her tears were silent, gasping sobs carrying no sound but all of her pain. Even now as she let it out, she tired to hide the depth of her pain. Still, she couldn’t hide it from him. They sat there together as the sun started to lower in the sky and the darkness overwhelmed the world around them.

~~~~~<3

Thirty two days after his world ended, Clint helped himself to a car from the compound’s auto bay and as the sun just began to lighten the horizon in the distance, Clint Barton left the world that was the Avenger’s behind. They had nothing to offer him. There was nothing more they could do for him.

Slowly, he made his way home. He took his time, stopping in towns and cities along the way. His quiver and bow was at his side as he faced off with hostile groups of survivors. Some recognized him and left him to his travels. Those where his favorites.

More often than not however, during his slow days of meandering travel back to the farmhouse, when people recognized him they would reach out to him. Some would ask him what the Avengers were doing to fix things and he would not hesitate to stay that things were not fixable. Their loved ones were not coming back. But that with time things would get better as the infrastructure adapts to the drastic change in population. Many people took such news with soft resignation. It wasn’t what they wanted to hear but a month out- it wasn’t a surprise.

Others responded with anger. Those where the ones Clint could understand the best. How dare the Avengers fail them. The had asked for the people’s trust and in exchange promised to protect them. How dare they fail. It was those people who screamed at him, who attacked him to vent their anger.

Most were dispatched without any serious harm but not all. Occasionally a life would be lost to protect his own during his meandering trip home. Nat had called three times in that week and he had ignored each of them. It wasn’t that he was trying to hurt her with is radio silence, he simply needed space.

It was he that called her after a week of traveling. It was a short call, he treated it as just business. He reported the state of things in the places he had been through, sometimes on foot, sometimes using whatever vehicle he could find with both keys and gas.

When she would ask where he was going, what he was planning on doing he would dodge those questions. She would offer him tasks to help, invite him back to New York where he could assist in the distributing of aid and he would decline. He needed more time, he would say.

When he finally made his way back to his farmhouse, bitter lead settled in his stomach. It looked picture perfect in the distance and yet he knew it was the setting of his own personal nightmare. It didn’t stop him from from making his way toward his home however.

Clint’s boots were heavy on the dusty floor of the farmhouse as he thought back to his trip. The goal of going to New York had been to get answers. Yet there were so few answers within his grasp that it was maddening.

He had put everything he had into the dream of having his family back. Everything was invested in the fantasy of Laura’s kiss and his children’s laugh. While he waited for the team to fix everything, he remained here and kept order at the farmhouse and what was it all for?

While he had sat around tending a garden and keeping the porch dusted off the world around him spun farther and farther into chaos. Gangs gathered and splintered governments began to take form on the local level. The American government was going to have their work cut out for them when they finally are in a position to enforce law and order.

It didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t loyal to any one government beyond what was needed to keep himself out of jail and ensure the protection of his family. It was highly unlikely that anyone would be by to arrest anyone for anything anytime soon. In the past his loyalty was purchased by SHIELD and the American government in exchange for the protection and safety of his family directly from Fury himself. The promise of their safety was enough. When he had become a husband and a father, his loyalty became cheap. For their safety, he would do his damn job.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. The team was back, Thanos was dead and the stones were gone, blinked out of existence by their own power. The team had done everything that they had set out to do on the mission except that one thing Clint needed them to do with every fiber of his being.

Now, standing in his dusty kitchen, he had to figure out how to move on in a world without his family. They were not going to be coming back. He’d never see them again. Even in death, if heaven and hell were real- he’d not be in their light for his sins were already too great.

~~~~~<3

Day 39 Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

While she looked forward to the possibility of what luxuries she could find in Kansas City, she wasn’t in a hurry to put her neck on the line to get them. Because of the inherent dangers that came with cities, she took her time driving around the outskirts, circling the city and searching for an out of the way place to park her RV.

While she was away from it, it would be a sitting duck. It was one thing she couldn’t afford to have taken from her. It was the one thing she couldn’t live without. It was her home. It was her security. It was her supplies. It was her everything in this new world and so, when she parked it to the east of the city she was sure of where it sat tucked back in a small grove a trees and behind a hill.

Carefully, she folded Frankie’s blanket and placed it at the bottom of the backpack. On top she placed the stuffed fox. They were never left behind. Not once. On top she put a can of wet dog food, a few bottles of water and a large bag of trail mix that proudly proclaimed itself to be ‘value sized’ went in next. One can of beef stew went on top and she was packed for the day.

With her gun strapped to her hip and one more water bottle slipped into the side pocket of her backpack, she tossed it over her shoulder. Trust was on her heels as he always was when they moved out for a day. With the curtains pulled closed and the doors locked, she had to simply trust that everything would still be there when she returned.

~~~~~<3

It was a long walk toward the city. She walked along cars crashed and parked. At one point she had to climb over a stack of cars smashed tightly against each other. Looking inside them was a terrible idea yet it was often hard to avoid. If she was lucky there was simply dust on the seats and the smashed car was otherwise empty. That wasn’t always the case however.

Sometimes a man would be in the driver’s seat, decomposing away where his last morning commute had ended rather abruptly. Other times there were small children in the back, killed hopefully instantly by the crash that left their bodies mangled and bloody. The worst was the children in back seats that were largely untouched by the force of the accident but simply couldn’t extract themselves from their car seats.

Don’t look down. Don’t think about it. Don’t step on windshields that could give way. They were gone. Dead. Looking at them, thinking about it doesn’t do anyone any good. It was better to simply move on as best she could.


	8. When it all goes sideways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: A general undercurrent of mental and emotional pain. Surprise assault, sexual assault, implied plans of future rape and sexual assault (what will happen? Who knows!), Dog bites, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of hopeful thoughts, mentions of religion.

Day 39 Post Decimation

Clint was up early, dragging himself out of the too hard guest bed before the sun had done more than just lighten the sky. With the reality of his situation weighing on him, he filled a bottle with water and pulled himself behind the wheel of the truck he kept but rarely drove. He needed supplies to survive until he had some sort of plan as to how he was going to move forward.

He also needed coffee but if he stayed in that house a moment longer, he would go mad. He needed a break from it all, for a few hours. It was too much to be surrounded by the things he had shared with this family for too long.

Leaving the farm would be dangerous until people settled into the new way things worked or until the government took control back from the people. With all the political unrest he had seen in his life, it looked very much like what he had seen in the time since he had left New York. It likely would be rebellion on a large scale all over the country- hell all over the world and he didn’t expect that it would come to an end any time soon.

Slowly, he made his way toward Kansas City. He took his time, stopping at every town along the way to gather what supplies he could while checking the political and social environment in the areas surrounding him. He had wasted too much time already and now he had to play a game of catch up.

It was vital to know the situation in the communities surrounding where his home was. That was the only way he could hope to get an advantage in protecting what little still mattered. Mostly, it was empty buildings and empty land that he found. As he moved about in small towns he would catch sight of people looking from windows carefully, watching him. In these towns he would only take a little, if there was anything left to take at all.

He hoped for better pickings to be found within the City where many wouldn’t know what they should have taken for survival. The ignorance of city dwellers could always be counted on. Still, it had been a month and he knew better than to hope for too much.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna carefully moved into the city. The summer heat was beating down on her from what felt like everywhere. Heat radiated up off the asphalt and off the cars. Still, she felt safer weaving her way between cars rather than walking in the open where she would be uncovered. The cars offered her some cover as she made her way into the city, giving her a place to crouch and peek ahead. It was a long walk but until she was closer she didn’t want to risk picking up a car only to have to ditch it at a roadblock.

It was close to noon when she had finally felt safe enough to grab a car from one of the seemingly abandoned dealerships. They had become one of her favorite places to pick up cars. Normally they got good millage, their tanks had plenty of fuel and were often free of both dust inside and decomposing bodies.

She hated driving around, it could draw too much attention but cities were far too big to travel on foot while gathering supplies. It was simply a necessity regardless of if she wanted to drive or not. Grand theft auto was becoming routine for her. She hardly gave it any thought anymore. A rock through the window, find the keys, break into the locked case- typically with the use of heavy things or tools from the shop- and find the car it matched and off she went.

With wheels, she set about finding store. While she drove, she allowed the radio to search for any signals. All it found was static however and she quickly turned it off, preferring the silence and Trust’s panting over the sound of static as she drove. It occurred to her that there was no reason not to grab some CDs. The RV had a CD player as did most cars. Why should she live in silence?

The always familiar big blue sign of a Walmart caught her eye and she wasted no time pulling the truck into the parking lot and backing close to the doors. The glass was shattered on the ground, blown around by the wind and shards covered in a layer of dirt or dust, perhaps both. As she always did, Deanna told Trust to be mindful of his paws as if he would understand her. So far they had been lucky and he hadn’t cut himself on broken glass and that was good enough for her.

As she moved into the store, she clicked the flashlight on her phone on. Grabbing a cart, she set her backpack inside and looked at the mess inside the store. The produce section was nearly empty but what had not been picked clean was molding. As she walked, she found the frozen sections were in a similar state. The general smell within the store was fairly bad.

She was able to find cans of broth and piled them into the cart. Water was cleaned out but she had expected as much. In a pinch she could always just drink straight broth though she couldn’t see it coming to that any time soon. With the salt in the broths, they couldn’t replace fresh water but it was something she could cook in rather than using water.

Surely the government would be back before things got to that point, wouldn’t it? In the very back of some shelves she was able to find some cans of vegetables and fruit. She was surprised to find any at all but it seemed some people didn’t think to crouch down and look in the very back.

It had become surprising, the things she could find in cities that people didn’t think to take. Cleaning supplies, hygienic items and such were often still sitting on shelves. All sorts of goodies could be found in the backs of shelves, left behind by people who didn’t think to kneel down and look in the back.

Two large bags of rice, a heavy bag of flower and just as heavy bag of sugar was added tot he cart. More yeast could be valuable for trading- it had already earned her fresh produce once, it was worth taking what she could to see if she could make that happen again. Peanut butter, jelly and cans of soup were all hiding in the backs of the shelves. A handful of cans of tuna and a good ten cans of chicken was sitting ignored on the shelf. It wasn’t exactly the plethora of food she wished for but it was something.

Dog food was still sitting on the shelves and Deanna could only assume whoever was still in the city hadn’t become desperate enough to resort to eating it. That was all the better for her, she grabbed the largest bags she could and slipped them under the cart. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed a can of wet food and popped it open. She dumped the food in a bowl from the display and Trust was thankful for another meal, having eaten the can she had brought shortly before they made it to the car dealership.

In the kitchen section she grabbed up some heavy cast iron pans and a dutch oven. Some baking dishes went in next, small cookie pans and a six cup muffin tin found their way into the cart because- why not?

In the book section, she found a few cook books and tossed them in the cart as well as a few paper back books that looked interesting enough. There wasn’t a reason not to, really. While living now was hard work, she had down time with her current set up. She’d always said that she wanted to start reading more, what better time?

A sky blue bedding set was tossed onto of the full cart as her circle through the store neared an end. She stood in front of the fishing gear before she would make a right turn and walk down the back of the store. The flashlight lit up fishing rods and cases full of things she didn’t really understand or know how to use.

She grabbed a rod that looked as good as any of the others and handfuls of whatever looked useful. In a case was jars of what claimed to be salmon eggs and she tossed jar after jar inside. She may not know how to fish but she may as well try and learn. On her way out, she grabbed laundry detergent and more dish soapand that was it.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Clint was perched on a stairway outside a fourth floor apartment overlooking a Walmart in Kansas City. He planned on crashing here for the night and taking his time working his way back to the farmhouse the following day. Whoever had lived in this apartment had been paranoid and for that, he was thankful. It was a jackpot complete with instant coffee- not his favorite but better than nothing.

The door had shown signs of someone trying to break it down but the heavy locks did their jobs. Whoever failed to get inside clearly were not skilled in picking a lock, unlike him. The locks did little to keep him out. Inside he found cabinets full of canned food. With the door locked behind him, a can of peaches in his hand and his bow and quiver at his side, he watched.

The city wasn’t abandoned, that much was clear to him though the remaining people went to great pains to make it look like it. Even before the truck pulled into the Walmart parking lot, there was people moving in the distance, staying in the shadows.

Just because they didn’t want to be seen didn’t mean he didn’t see them. Women would be ushered through dark doorways without so much as a peep. Clint wondered if those women were free to leave, if they wished.

Below, a woman with a dog was busying herself with loading a cart full of some of the oddest things into the truck bed. The dog food made sense to him, as did the large bags of flour, sugar and rice. What didn’t make as much sense to Clint was the bedding. She didn’t see the men as they moved into the parking lot swiftly, baseball bats in their hands. It was clear that they meant her harm. Clint wasn’t one to sit back and watch when she had no chance against the twelve or so men stalking her.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna nearly jumped out of her skin when Trust barked, hackles raised and a deep growl spilling out between bared teeth. They hadn’t been together for long, all things considered however she trusted the dog with every ounce of her being. Still, there wasn’t a lot she could do other than be on guard and pray that it was just another dog that upset Trust.

With gun in hand, she slowly pushed the cart outside. There wasn’t much she could do to peek outside. For better or worse, she had no option but to inch outside with every muscle in her body tensed. It looked clear enough and she set about loading the truck after hushing Trust. The faster she got the truck loaded and out of there, the better.

Trust dashed around the front of the truck, hackles raised and looking wholly ready to defend her life. Deanna didn’t have time to think much of it as she wrestled things into the back. A large fluffy cloud crossed over the sun as the breeze picked up, sending dust into the air around her feet. It felt like a warning in that moment, even if she couldn’t even begin to know how sideways things were about to go.

She didn’t hear him come up behind her. Maybe she would have, if not for the snarling barks of the dog and her blood rushing in her ears. Maybe not. In the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? You only get one shot at things like this and so all she could ever do is guess.

Rough hands grabbed at her waist and pulled her back from the truck. A dirty face and greasy hair sneered down at her. For a short moment her mind went blank. When she jerked the gun up, his hand caught her wrist in a bruising grip. Fingers dug in to the soft flesh of her wrist, tips digging between the bones. Though she tried not to, she cried out when her fingers went numb and the gun slipped to the ground.

In that way that one notices unimportant details when adrenaline floods the body, Deanna noticed the dirt caked around the man’s nails. His whole hand was covered in dirt, as if he hadn’t even seen water in the last month. If she splashed his hands with her bottle, she was sure that the water would run off his fingertips nearly black. She felt dumb for noticing such things, now wasn’t the time to gauge his hygienic practices but she couldn’t help it. The mind was a strange thing, like that.

“Let go of me!” No matter how she yanked, his grip was unrelenting.

“Not happening.”

She struggled and kicked at him but it seemed to take no effort for him to get both her hands pinned in one of his. The weight of him pinned her against the truck as his free hand grabbed at her, pulling at her clothes and hair. Her mind was a blur of half formed thoughts and ideas as she tried to fight him off of her.

With a twist, she almost got free but just as his hands slipped off her arm, they locked around her waist. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her back and threw her against the truck. Air left her lungs in a rush and she struggled to breath. It was pure luck when her heel made contact with the man’s crotch.

Behind her, anther man screamed, his voice blending with the shouts of the man who had been attacking her as he fell to the ground, clutching himself. She couldn’t see it but Trust had his jaws locked on the wrist of another man. The man with the greasy hair pulled himself up against the truck just as Deanna had slipped away.

She was so close, so very close to getting away. Her fingers curled around the handle to the driver’s door when she was yanked back with enough force to rip her shirt. A scream ripped from her throat but she didn’t hear it.

The man, this one blonde yanked her back. In the struggle, she twisted her ankle and white hot pain rushed through her only to be quickly forgotten as she tried to get away with hobbled steps. She didn’t have long however before she was thrown up against the side of the truck once more.

The screams of the man Trust still had locked in his jaws echoed and chilled her to her core even as pleading words pooled out of her mouth. She tried to convince the blonde haired man to let her go, using anything that came to mind as leverage. Perhaps she had gone so far as to even offer up her home on wheels. Later, she wouldn’t be able to recall the things she said and in the end, it didn’t matter. The man could not be bought or bargained with.

What she would be able to recall was the way his hands grabbed at her, pulled at her clothes. There were vile promises falling from his spit covered lips and while she couldn’t recall the words, the memory of their promise would chill her to the bone. As he grabbed at her breasts, he told her of the things his band of thugs did to the women in their care. The way they were slaves to what the men desired. He promised that she’d be cooking their meals, cleaning their messes and seeing to their every need. As if he had left any doubt, he ground his hips into her.

Though she struggled with a renewed energy, she couldn’t get away. His fist bunched in her hair and the pain of it combined with the helplessness and frustration to bring tears to her eyes.

“Just kill me.” The words slipped from her lips as a whimper. In a passing way she had no time to give thought to, she realized that was what she had really wanted. She was a coward, yes and would not seek it out but now- she could beg for death without regret.

“Not until we’re done with you.” He yanked her forward. “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you just because you’re pretty.”

She didn’t think it was possible to want to live in this world, yet she did. It was strange, how the mind could jump from wanting death to wanting to live in the span of a few heartbeats but she did. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that she wanted to live but rather that she didn’t want to suffer for who knows how long while waiting for blessed death.

If she could just get away, she promised herself she would make for herself the best life she could in the new system. Not a single day would be taken for granted. Every sunrise and sunset would be admired with all her heart. If she could just get away, she swore she would never wish for death again. If she could just get away.

She had thought she had wanted to die, not even a few weeks ago and had gone so far as to think about just ending things. She was far too cowardly to act on such thoughts.

If she could just somehow get out of this situation, she would live her life. She would live her life the best she could to make up for the lives her children wouldn’t get to live. She would pick flowers. She would sing songs. She would make a home for herself. If only she could get away.

The man’s callused hands slipped under her shirt for a better grip on her and tears dripped from her chin. Words still fell from her lips, pleads for mercy. She promised them anything, everything she had owned- she would give them. All of her water, all of her food, everything. All she wanted was the be allowed to leave, allowed to live without suffering at their hands.

It wasn’t enough for them. They wanted her.

It had been a long time since she had been faithful. With the emergence of the Norse gods within the realm of reality, it was hard to know what gods were real, which where true gods and if any actually answered prayers. For all anyone could know, they were all aliens. She, like many had lost any real faith. Still, as the man pulled her head back by her hair and wrapped his grimy hand around her throat, she prayed to a nameless god.

She begged any god who dared to listen, any god who may even give the slightest shit about her and the remaining humans to spare her from what they had in store for her. She begged for a sign that she could continue on. She begged for a sign that she wasn’t spared from the decimation, just to suffer through this. She begged whatever god may hear her for a sign that she didn’t outlive her children just to be a slave to a gang. While her vision grew fuzzy and darkness swam around her, she begged for a sign.

She kicked and clawed with what little strength she had even as she felt hope slipping away from her. It was just as well, she thought. She would see them again soon, if she was lucky. If she was lucky, they would kill her soon and she could hold Frankie and Aurora in her arms again.


	9. Kansas City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve survived Plague, mountains of laundry and more to bring to you this week’s update. Yes, I’m being dramatic but only a little bit. Honest. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Blood. Gore. Death. Blood and gore. Gun violence.

Day 39 Post Decimation

It seemed like this was going to be the beginning of the end for Deanna. That was alright, she decided. Her only regret would be that she didn’t have her children’s stuffed animal and blanket in her arms when she was to die. That would have offered her a small measure of comfort. It didn’t matter, she would be with them again soon.

Without warning, the man holding her staggered back with a shout. It took her a moment to process the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. It only registered when a second joined it an instant later. Arrows were so unexpected. Gun shots were common place but an arrow?

“Leave her alone!” A voice shouted from across the street, slightly gravely and deep. It surprised her that she could even hear it, yet it held an air of authority that seemed to power it across the distance.

Trust was at her side, a snarling and bloody mess but looking somehow no worse for wear. The man, this one with short cropped brown hair and a nasty red scar down the side of his face grabbed at her only to have trust waste not even a moment lunging at him. It was clear as he fell back that he regretted the move instantly. Sharp jaws sank into the flesh of his arm as the large dog put all his weight into ripping his head back and forth, severing arteries in the process. Blood poured from the man’s arm as he fell to the ground, Trust still growling with it clutched between his jaws. The blood was mixing with his saliva, turning almost to a foam as it each breath bubbled out.

Deanna staggered along the side of the truck, toward where the gun had fallen in the confusion. While she would have preferred to be able to say she leaned down to pick it up, that wasn’t the case. Her knees gave out when she tried. With a shift of her weight, she landed in a heap next to the gun. It took two tries to pick it up but she managed just as a shadow fell over her.

Time has a funny way of slowing down when adrenaline floods the body. Shadows seem sharper, the sky crisper and you just notice things that you otherwise wouldn’t. Deanna noticed the groves in the handle of the gun for the first time. The cut into her hand, hurting as she gripped it far tighter than needed. As her gaze swept out and over the asphalt and up toward the man towering over her, she noticed things like the small weeds growing in the cracks.

The man’s jeans were dirty and most likely stiff with wear and lack of proper washing both. His shirt had dark stains on it that she wanted to believe were not from blood. Behind him, she could see Trust growling at a group of men as they leveled a gun toward him. Farther in the distance, she saw a woman run out into the street, a man chasing her. He caught her with little struggle and put a bullet into her head, ending her life as if it were worth nothing more than the gravel on the ground.

The heartbeat passed and her eyes locked on the man’s as he pulled his leg back. It was now or never. There wouldn’t be another chance. A deep breath in and calmly exhaled steeled her as she pulled the trigger and Deanna claimed a second life. As he fell back with a large portion of his head missing, he didn’t die instantly. Upon hitting the ground, he turned and crawled away as she watched in amazement. Blood poured from the red mess of his head and she could clearly see the where his skull had been ripped away.

Behind him, an arrow took down one man and then another but she paid it little mind. Her stomach was rolling at the sight in front of her. The man turned to look at her, panic clear in the one eye that still remained. Blood covered a large portion of his face but the one remaining eye was wild. Deanna wondered if she was seeing his brain, covered in wild red rivers of blood but decided not to think about it. It was better not to think about it.

A few months ago a man could have hope, though slim of surviving injuries such as this. He wouldn’t have been the first to do so with proper and prompt medical care. But times were different now. Where would he go? Who would take them there? It wasn’t as if she could just drive him to the local hospital to receive treatment.

If she were to take him to a hospital, would there be doctors there still to treat him? Was the hospital even powered? This wasn’t the old way of the world. There wasn’t a centralized civilization that would aid him.

She slowly lifted her gun up and pointed it at him. In the distance, what men were not taken down by arrow or dog where running. The gory scene unfolding in front of her was enough to scare them away when paired with how they found themselves being cut down. Absently, she heard the footfalls of a man running toward her as Trust raced to her side, hackles still raised.

The next time she pulled the trigger, it hit the bloody man’s torso. A garbled scream ripped from him as she adjusted her aim and fired again, hitting him in the neck as his body seemed to slow. It was probably due to the loss of blood but his final movements looked as if he were crawling through a vat of molasses. The sound of the shots echoed around her as it all seemed to end.

“Are you okay?”

Turning her head from the red mess that had once been a living human and now was not due to actions of no one but herself, she looked toward the front of the truck. All that had happened and she had hardly made it out from in front of the store. He wasn’t as tall as most, but his frame was strong just the same. With his hands raised next to his head in a gesture of no ill will, she could just a hint of the power held within his arms. Peeking up from behind his back, oddly enough was a quiver full of arrows and a bow.

“Why did you help me?” The gun felt too heavy as the adrenaline left her system nearly as quickly as it had flooded her veins. Her arm shook with the effort of holding the gun now pointed at this new man.

“It wasn’t a fair fight.” Slowly, she lowered the gun and he lowered his hands. It boggled her mind that anyone in this new world would give a shit about something as small as something being a ‘fair fight’. “Are you okay?”

“I think so, yeah.” Trust was starting to calm. The large dog was no longer outright aggressive but still her companion watched the man with a careful eye as he slowly approached. When he offered his hand to her, she sat looking dumbly at him. It was a rarity to be offered any kindness and her first question was naturally of his motives.

“This is when you take my hand and I help you up.” He clarified as if she was too dumb to figure that much out. It was so jarring to see a kindness offered while surrounded by the carnage of what had happened so quickly.

After a slight hesitation, she took his hand. It was large and warm as his fingers wrapped around hers. There was a comfort in the strength of his grip, firm but not painful that made her wonder when she had actually last touched another human being in kindness. It seemed a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was.

He pulled her to her feet in a fluid motion as if she had weighed nearly nothing. It was clear as day that he was strong even as he offered her a gentle smile. Just who was he though? And what did he want? A strong man like him, clearly able to protect himself had to have a reason to help her. There had to be something more than ‘it wasn’t a fair fight’. The questions flew out of her mind however as soon as she put weight on her right foot.

It buckled under her weight and she tilted forward on instinct, reaching out for something to steady herself as the pain caused black to claw at the edges of her vision. What she grabbed however happened to be him.

“Whoa, you okay there?” His words floated away from her, carried on the back of the pain even as it quickly subsided. It occurred to her that one of her hands was tangled in his shit, against his warm chest. The other was gripping his bicep and if not for the pain, she may have actually swooned.

The children’s father wasn’t ugly by any means but he wasn’t in shape either. She hadn’t been with another man in the year since she had left him. It was lonely being a single mother but she had been so focused on being the best mother she could be for the children during the difficult time that the thought of dating again was terrifying.

“Sit down, let me take a look at it?” His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Nodding, she let him help her to the ground. With careful hands and a soft touch, he untied her shoe and worked it off. The joint was tender and swelling quickly.

She couldn’t help but ask, “Who are you?”

“Clint.” He mumbled. “Clint Barton. It looks sprained.”

“The Avenger?” She flinched as he slowly rotated her foot, examining it as if he was a doctor.

“Ex. You’re going to need to wrap it and ice it.”

“You were my kids favorite.”

“Were? Who’s their favorite now? Thor?” Clint smiled at her but she could see the sadness in his eyes. He was a man haunted, just like everyone else left behind.

“No one. They’re gone now.”

“I’m sorry.” He softly spoke, not looking up at her. His shoulders sagged as if a weight crashed against them. “My family was dusted too.” Deanna didn’t correct him.

“I’m Deanna.”

“Well Dee, I’m going to see if I can find something to wrap that ankle with. Then I’ll load up the truck and we’ll get out of here.”

“We?” She asked as he stood.

“Well, you can’t drive. We may have scared them off for now but I wouldn’t be surprised if they come back within a few hours.” His eyes roamed around their surroundings as he spoke. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. It was a struggle to pull herself up, putting all of her weight on her one good foot and holding the other a few short inches off the ground. Carefully she lowered it only to jerk it back up again when pain shot through the joint instantly.

Trust watched carefully as she hobbled slowly around to the bed of the truck where she sat, feet dangling down. While she didn’t know if she could trust Clint, everyone was different in this new world after all, she quickly came to understand that she had no choice.

“Oh good, you’re already sitting.” He jogged out of the store, sun bleached brown hair shining golden in the light. As he slowed, he ripped open one of the small boxes of elastic bandages in his arms. When the brown roll was freed, he wasted no time kneeling in front of her. “That’s a fine dog you’ve got with you.”

“I don’t know what his name is. I just call him Trust.” It was painful as he set to work wrapping her ankle. She didn’t want to look weak. She didn’t want to look vulnerable. In this new world, it could be death to show weakness.

“He’s a good dog. Saved your life.” After securing the bandage, Clint set to work on loosening the shoe and slowly working it over her foot.

“You saved my life.” Deanna countered as he shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”

“Like I said, it wasn’t a fair fight.” She didn’t press and instead watched him carefully as he stood and looked around before disappearing around the front.

She couldn’t see it, but she felt the truck rock as he pulled open the passenger door. Carefully, she began sliding herself off the tailgate as he came back around.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. A rather undignified squawk slipped out of her before she could stop it as his arm slipped behind her knees. It took no effort at all for him to sweep her literally off her feet.

In this world where no one is what they seem, she half expected to fall back and crash against the truck and discover he was just as terrible as the men lying dead all around them. Instead of the truck, her back collided with his arm and she was swept up against his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Sweeping you off your feet, Dee.” Clint offered a charming smile, his blue eyes sparkling as if they were in the world before. His laugh was warm and she could feel it in his chest. “I’m carrying you to the passenger seat. You can’t drive, you can’t walk. So sit pretty and wait for me to load your stuff up.”

She really didn’t have any other option but to do just that. Trust seemed fond of the man at least. In the mirrors she would catch a glimpse of Clint patting the dog’s head or throwing a ball he must have taken from inside for Trust to quickly fetch, tail wagging. The truck shifted and rocked as heavy bags were loaded. She couldn’t see him well as he worked and that made her nervous. All she could do was trust him and that was something she found herself having a hard time doing. The fact remained, she was at his mercy with a hurt ankle and so she did the only thing she could do- she closed her eyes so she didn’t have to continue to see the bodies surrounding them.

The truck rocked as Clint tossed bags of dog food into the bed. She willed herself to relax as he loaded bags and boxes into the back. It must have worked because the next thing she knew her shoulder was being nudged. The sudden contact woke her with a start, causing her to jerk her knees up and curl in on herself. The action resulted in her jerking her ankle as well and the flash on white hot pain brought her back to the moment.

“Sorry, sorry!” Clint held his hands up in pleading, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t know where to take you. So, how do we get to your house?”

“I don’t have a house.” she mumbled as Clint turned the key and brought the truck to life. Trust was nestled on the bench seat in the back, clearly trusting Clint as much as he had trusted me.

“Just passing through, then?” He commented, pulling out of the parking lot as she tried to avoid looking at the gore they were leaving behind.

“Just passing though.” She agreed. For a moment Dee sat in silence before giving out directions and trying her best to explain where the roadblock was between the place on the highway and where her home was parked. Luck would have it, Clint knew the area and promised it was just a matter of time before he found a way around so that she wouldn’t have to walk at all.

“So, you don’t live out of this truck.” Clint commented.

“What makes you say that.” She tensed up though she knew it was unreasonable.

“You don’t have any supplies with the exception of what you got today and what’s in your backpack, for starters. Plus this truck is new- nearly no miles but you’re clearly not from around here.”

“Valid points.” Clint laughed and there- just under the surface Deanna could almost see the warmth of the man that be must have been before the decimation. “I’ve got a RV we live in.”

“Sweet idea. How’s that working out?” Clint sounded a bit excited. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Pretty good. I can’t take credit- someone else helped me get it going.”

“Where are they?” Clint asked, turning on a side road. Deanna could see the highway in the distance, they were driving along side it almost.

“He died.”

“I’m sorry. A lot of that seems to be going around.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Deanna looked down at her hands.

“What will you do now?” Clint glanced over at her. “You can’t drive it so are you going to stay put or try and move on?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? Until I can drive- I can’t leave. How long do you think it will take?” Clint hummed as he thought. “I mean- I know you’re not a doctor. At least, I don’t think you are. Were.”

“Probably a good four weeks until you can drive short distances, longer until you can walk and stuff without pain. Depends on how bad it is.”

“I wonder how bad it is?” She asked, not really sure what she expected as an answer.

“Looked pretty bad, to be honest.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” Deanna leaned back and closed her eyes. The realization that she would be a sitting duck and likely dead within the week washed over her.

“What do you want to do?” Clint offered after a moment of silence. “We could, you know, team up? Even just for a bit?”


	10. Teaming up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None, believe it or not...

Chapter 10: Teaming up?

“Team up? How’s that going to even work?” Everything in Deanna pulled tight. She had no reason not to trust him but in this world, trust was dangerous.

“I’ve got land in Missouri, a few hours drive from here. You can stay parked there for a bit- as long as you want really.” Clint shrugged.

“And what would you want in return?” Everyone wanted something in return in this New System. No kindness was ever offered ‘just because’ anymore.

He was silent for a moment, thinking before answering, “To not be alone, I guess.”

“What does that mean, exactly.” She demanded. “Those men back there could have said the exact same thing without lying.” She was right and he knew it.

“Just, someone to talk to.” He elaborated with a shrug. “I went from having a wife and kids at home to being alone. Even my damn dogs got dusted.”

“Nothing more?” Deanna pressed, sounding every bit unsure as she should have been. Clint couldn't fault her for the lack of trust.

“Nothing more required.”

“Okay, turn left onto the dirt road. I’m parked behind some trees.”

“Out of sight, smart.”

“I learned.”

“Guess you had to, huh?” He mumbled, more to himself.

In no time at all, the world had spun into a dangerous place and where were the Avengers during it all? Distributing aid on the east coast and trying to locate politicians? What good was that doing for the rest of the country, for the rest of the world? Clint realized, perhaps for the first time that this wasn’t something they could put a bandage on and wait for it to begin healing in a few weeks.

What was Clint doing other than just that in the last few weeks, really? Hiding in his family home letting the pain of what he lost drag him down while he waited for what? Some word from the Director telling him how they would fix this for those left behind?

There was no fixing this. The Avengers couldn’t fix this. All they could do was try to keep order and maintain some semblance of basic law while they waited for the world to decide who now got to make the laws.

They fell into a silence as the truck rocked with each bump. Each lost in their own thoughts, brooding on what had become of the world. Never in her life had Deanna expected to be sitting in a truck with Clint Barton- Hawkeye but here she was. Could she ask for a better partner while her ankle healed?

“This is it.” She broke the silence as they approached where she had parked tucked between some trees and back off the road.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been around.” Clint commented, scanning the area. It was something she had learned to do after the incident in Saint George but watching him do it, it looked natural.

“No, it doesn’t. But I still would like to move a bit outside of town as soon as things are loaded.”

Clint looked at her surprised before smiling. “You’re a smart cookie.”

“I just like not dying.” Deanna offered. “Most of the time, at least.” She added, under her breath, not intending to be heard.

“You and me both, babe.”

She smiled at him as she leaned to the side, pulling the keys out of her back pocket, an action that felt insanely normal and out of place in her new life. It didn't seem to matter how many times she had done it in the last few weeks, it still felt too normal. Handing them over to Clint, she watched him.

He could get out of the car and run for the RV, open it up and drive off without her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. He could steal it, leave her in the dust with an ankle that prevented her from going anywhere. She would die if he left her.

All she could do was watch, trust and pray. So that’s what she did. She watched as he walked over, dropping to his knees and looking under after scanning the area. It was something she never thought to check, but someone could hide underneath.

With careful steps, he made his way around the RV while he checked the area. When he came back around the side, he offered her a wide grin that didn’t in any way reflect the seriousness of the life they were all now forced to live.

But maybe, that was okay. Maybe it was okay to start finding the occasional reason to smile at one another. What was the harm at least, in trying? She was going to be stuck with him for at least a few weeks. And honestly, it would be nice to have someone around. It was always her and Trust.

“Looks all clear.” Clint said as he opened the passenger door for her. “I’ve got some crutches at home you can have. Probably annoying having to be carried around.”

“It wont’ be so bad in the RV but yeah, that would be nice.” Deanna admitted as he turned his back and crouched down. He brought his back close to her while still leaving room for her to move her hurt ankle around to his side.

“Hop on Taxi Barton.” He waited until she had settled against his back before he stood. “You can give me the tour after we get farther from town. Till then, is it okay to take you inside and load things up?”

Deanna agreed, though she wasn’t paying him much attention. She would feel better inside her home where he couldn’t turn into a monster and leave her behind. At the moment however, she was more focused on the warmth of his back, seeping into her as she clung to him. She had her arms wrapped around broad shoulders though if she was honest, she had a feeling she didn’t need to hold onto him at all.

With his arms hooked behind him, strong hands were gripping the back of her thighs high up and so close to her ass that she couldn’t help but be aware of it. It surprised her that he smelled good, like clean linen and the forest. It was a unexpected mix that worked so well for him. His hair was clean and looked so soft, unlike the so many she had seen since the Decimation.

The sun played on his dark hair through the gaps of the trees, lighting up the warm highlights and scatterings of almost blonde strands lost within the dark masses. The tips of his hair were a bit lighter and sun bleached than the roots. She could see freckles along the back of his neck and the lines of age beginning to etch themselves into his handsome face. It had been so long since she had thought of a man as handsome outside of a screen but he was beyond doubt a handsome man.

Clint carefully knelt down, back toward the passenger seat of the cab. He let his grip go slack but was careful to not let go until he felt her weight shift off of him and settle onto the seat. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he dropped her and she was thankful for the care he had taken.

He made quick work of loading up her supplies and before she knew it, he was hauling himself into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. The RV roared to life and Trust, still soggy from a hose bath took a spot on the floor when he found that he couldn’t sit in the passenger seat as he normally would.

Clint’s driving was a bit jerky at first and Deanna teased him for it as he pulled them off the back road and onto a paved street. “Once we’re out of the suburbs, we’ll stop and I’ll help you put the stuff away.”

“Thank you.” Deanna’s voice was soft.

“I would say: ‘That’s what heroes do’ but I’m not sure that this is a world that still has a place for heroes.”

“You’re my hero at least.”

“I’ll take what I can get, Dee.” Clint laughed and it was a warm sound. It had been so long since she had heard anyone laugh. Until now, she feared no one would laugh again. “Been traveling long?”

“A bit.” She admitted, unsure of how long she had actually been traveling herself. The days and weeks blurred together. It was hard to care about the passage of time when the children were gone. “You put my backpack in here, right?” She asked in a panic.

“backpack?” Clint was focused on swerving around some abandoned cars as they made their way outside of the city. Buildings were becoming fewer and fewer and he almost felt safe to stop soon.

“Yes. We’ve got to go back.” Deanna was struggling to stand without hurting her foot. She needed to go and look. She needed to be sure they had it.

“Hey, hey. The black one, right?” Clint asked. “Dee, sit down. It’s okay. It’s behind your seat. We’ll stop and I’ll show you, just sit down before you hurt yourself.”

With great care, he pulled them to a stop on in a rest pullout. It took everything he had to try and keep the RV steady as she struggled to grab the backpack. When they were parked, Clint reached back behind her seat. Making it seem like nothing, he wrapped his hand around the strap of the backpack, partially covered by a bag of dogfood and pulled it around into the cab, accomplishing what Deanna had been struggling to do.

“Here.” He set it in her lap. “What’s so important?” Deanna didn’t answer. Instead, though she knew there was no reason for it logically, she unzipped the bag. Without a second thought, she pulled out the child’s blanket and stuffed animal and clutched them to her chest. Clint was silent for a moment as he watched on, shuddering breaths ripping through her. “Those… they were your kids’?”

“I’m sorry.” The words were mumbled into cloth and stuffing as she tried to pull herself together.

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it. I am… was a father too, remember?” Clint’s heavy hand came to rest on her back, rubbing it softly. Comfort was something she never thought she would receive again. “We can stop here, get things put away. I can drive though the night to the farmhouse tonight if you want. Or we can camp out for the night. It’s your rig, up to you.”

“You’re the first person I’ve let in.” Deanna was picking at the ear of the fox, letting the soft fibers of it’s fur slip out of her fingertips. The double meaning wasn’t lost on Clint.

“I promise, I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’m not going to take anything. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was low, reassuring and finally she looked up and met his eyes again.

“Let’s find somewhere off the road to park for the night?”

~~~~~~~~~<3

It took almost half an hour to try and find somewhere that looked secluded enough to park for the night. Once a place was picked, Deanna directed Clint through the process of sliding out the extensions. With great care, he helped her from the cab into the living space and set to work following her directions and putting things away.

“The bedding’s for the bed, through the back.” Deanna offered when it was really all that was left.

“I’ll make it up for you.” Clint offered, lifting the massive bag up and disappearing down the hall with the ever watchful Trust on his heels.

Deanna sat for a moment on the couch before standing carefully. It was odd, not being alone in the RV. As she hobbled toward the refrigerator, she listened as Clint chattered at Trust. The dog’s wagging tail thumping against a wall. The dog had been keeping a close eye on Clint but seemed to accept his presence.

She opened the door and pulled out a package, one of the few remaining, of chicken breasts she had thawed. Her supply of meat was running lower by the day but with all that Clint had done for her today, the least she could do was make him a meal. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to thank him beyond that and words.

Without much thought, she sprinkled seasoning salt over the chicken. When he came out of the room, she had the breasts sizzling in the pan and another pan of sugar snap peas she had picked the day before cooking up. She glanced over at him and felt herself smile as Trust followed him. The dog was clearly taken with the man.

“I’ve got some juice concentrate we can have. Or we can have coffee or just water?”

“Coffee.” Clint moaned the word and she laughed. She was doing that more since meeting him a few hours ago and it felt good.

“Coffee it is.” She pulled out the canister and set about making a pot.

“Not instant?!” He cried, perking up eagerly as if a boy on Christmas morning.

“Not instant.” She laughed again, shaking her head.

“Dee, you’ve got all the power now. I’ve only had instant for over a week and I’m- I’m dying. It’s killing me. I’m yours.”

It didn’t take long for the small pot to fill. She grabbed a mug down and filled it for him.

“Food will be done in a minute.” She turned as she spoke, preparing to hobble over to the dinette with the mug where Clint had been sitting.

His warm hand settled on her waist and she found him next to her. “I’ve got it. I don’t want you to burn yourself.” A odd warmth spread through her at the contact, at the way he spoke, low and calmly. All she could do was nod. “When it’s done, I’ll carry the plates over too.”

It was only a few short minutes later that Deanna was putting the simple dinner on the two plates sitting on the covered sink. The extra oil and fat was poured from the pan onto Trust’s bowl of kibble along with the fatty scraps she had cut off before cooking.

Clint was at her side before she could call him. The space was small and he would clearly see that the food was done so it didn't surprise her. His hand came to rest on her lower back and he looked down at the food on the counter.

“Looks delish. Smells good too.”

“It’s nothing, honest.” Deanna felt that warmth again, in her chest and face.

“It isn’t nothing.” Clint insisted, placing the dog’s dish by the door. Trust was eager to eat. When he turned back toward her, he let both hands rest on her hips as she faced him. “It isn’t nothing. A home cooked meal is something I haven’t had in a month, not since my wife…” There was a short silence as he took a deep breath. “They’re gone now and I thought the chance to have a home cooked meal was gone too. At least to me, it isn’t nothing.”

Silence fell over them and Clint’s hand found hers and offered a reassuring squeeze. Deanna wasn’t sure as to what she should say to that and so she finally settled on, “I’ve got a decent set up.”

“Damn right, you do.” Clint offered around a mouthful of chicken, waving his fork. “You’ve got power, a way to cook, coffee, a shower, coffee, a bed- a pretty comfortable bed- mind you, coffee...”

“That coffee really is a big deal for you, isn’t it?” Deanna felt that odd urge to smile again.

“I love coffee. Live off of it. All I’ve hand in the last few weeks was a few cups and half of those were instant.” Deanna made a face full of mock horror and brought her hand out from under his to rest over her heart.

“That’s a punishment on par with death!”

“Right?!” Again, Clint laughed and she felt that warmth in her heart. She found that when he laughed, she wanted to smile.

When the plates were cleaned of food- and that didn’t take long, Clint leaned back with a sigh and patted his stomach dramatically. It was fascinating to her how in the moment some of the weight he carried on his shoulders seemed to fall off. The lines in his face seemed to be a little less deep.

“I have fed. I may sleep now. Right here.” He slipped down on his side along the dinette bench. “If I look dead, don’t bother me.”

“Or you can get up and we can turn the dinette into a bed?” Deanna stood to hobble the dishes to the sink, preparing to wash them. Clint was faster, surprising her with his eagerness.

“You cooked. Dee, let me.”

“Fine, but I’m getting the bed ready for you.”

As Clint washed the dishes, she balanced on her knee, protecting her foot as she lowered the tabletop. When the top was secured flush with the solid frame of the benches she arranged the cushions from the bench backs, filling in the space.

“It won’t be as comfortable as the bed.” Deanna leaned back.

“It’s better than the shed floor.” He sat down on the edge and leaned back, groaning when his back audibly popped. After a moment, he answered her unasked question. “I couldn’t stand going back into the house at first.”

“I don’t think I could go back.” She admitted. “It would hurt too much.”

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t really… what’s the point?”

“It can’t be undone, can it?”

“Nope. They tired. It’s too late.” Silence stretched on. There wasn’t anything more that could be said.

“I don’t have any extra blankets.” Deanna finally spoke when thunder crashed in the distance. “If it storms it could get a bit cold in here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve slept rougher in worse conditions.” He assured her but still, Deanna got up and turned the heat on and set it low. When she set about closing the blinds and curtains, Clint quickly beat her to it. He checked doors and windows, insuring they were locked.

“Don’t use up fuel on my account.” Clint insisted as he worked.

“It won’t last forever. I’ll eventually have to learn how to stay warm without it anyway.” Deanna shrugged. “I can’t have my hero catching a cold on my watch.”

Before Clint could respond, she hobbled down the short hall and closed the door to her small bedroom.


	11. Of Nightmares and Comforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, Anxiety, unhealthy mental spaces, borderline suicidal idealization

Clint was dead asleep. His back was more relaxed than it had been for a good while. At some point during the night he had pulled his shirt off, likely having gotten annoyed with it twisting around him as he turned in his sleep. This was the deepest sleep he had gotten in weeks thanks to the full stomach and comfortable bed.

Rain was pelting the roof, filling the space with the sounds. There was the soft whirl of the heater running every so often. The heat that poured into the room was hot and dry whenever it kicked on, heated by a small propane furnace. Every so often there was a crash of thunder in the distance. Lightning flashed around the edges of the curtains but did little to disturb him.

Trust was asleep in front of the door. The curtain was pulled across the back of the cab, closing it off from the living space. The dog was softly snoring and on occasion, his feet would twitch in his sleep, rattling the curtain a bit. It was a peaceful night, one that could allow someone to forget what the world was on its way to becoming for a few short hours.

Screams shattered the peace in an instant, waking Clint with a start. In an instant, he was up and on his feet, knife in hand. His bow was out of reach, propped up by the door. Trust was whining but showing no signs of aggression even as another scream tore through the air.

Nothing seemed amiss. With a quick glance around he was able to see that the door was still locked. A peek through the curtain showed nothing in front of the RV of note. He checked out the side windows as he made his way to the back bedroom and the source of the screams.

Each scream seemed to flood ice water through his system. While he was working on instinct, his mind was still muddled by sleep. A part of him, though he tried to ignore it, was screaming that he had failed her. Someone would be in the room, killing her. He’d only just found a friendly face and he was going to fail her.

“Dee?” He called through the door, only giving her a split second to answer before sliding it open. Trust still remained at the other end of the living space, whining but calm.

Inside the dark room, the woman on the bed thrashed and cried out against invisible demons. It was only then that the reality of what was happening became clear to Clint. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

He should have known. He should have expected it. It wasn’t as if he was spared from reliving horrors of the past at night. Was there anyone alive who didn’t have nightmares anymore?

When she cried out, it was a choking sound and Clint couldn’t think anymore. He wouldn’t fail her. He couldn’t fail her.

“Hey.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out for her arm as she turned. “Hey.” He repeated with a firm shake. “Wake up.”

She sat up sharply, the pain in her heart and fear combining to drown out the pain that was surging up her leg from thrashing with the sprained ankle. “Clint?”

“You’re okay.” The words were soft and he repeated them as he knelt on the bed and pulled her to his chest.

His voice shook as he murmured but neither of them was in a position to notice it. As her mind fought back the panic and she managed to right herself in reality slowly, Deanna clung to him. She clung to his soft spoken words. Her arms circled around him and her fingers dug into his back and shoulders. It felt safe in his arms. She felt small and protected.

Clint twisted and shifted, pulling them up toward the head of the bed and rested against the headboard as best he could. Adrenalin seemed to leave his bloodstream as fast as it had flooded it.

“You’re okay.” He kept whispering, more to himself at this point. Deanna’s shaking was subsiding and the tears slowed. Neither was sure when she had started crying. “You can tell me about it, if you want.”

“It happened. Again and again.” She whispered. “I had to watch. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save them.”

Clint had nothing to say to that. “All we can do is go forward.”

“I’m okay.” Deanna leaned back, wiping at her face as if that would erase the evidence of her weakness. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay.” Clint hadn’t let his arms fall from around her. There was a distance between them but he wasn’t ready to let go of her yet. Part of him feared that if he let go, she’d be gone too. “I have nightmares too, sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“But you’re-”

“Human.” Clint cut her off. “Painfully human… I should let you get back to sleep. Rest your ankle and all that.” Clint didn’t move to get up right away. When he did, she softly spoke.

“Everyone I’ve gotten close to since has ended up dead.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Clint asked before adding. “I promise, I’m not going to die. I’m not going to let that happen and as long as we’re together, I’m not going to let anything happen to you either.”

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone since…”

Deanna’s hands softly ran along his arms before resting on his chest as she pushed herself back to better look at him in the dim light of the room. Occasionally, lightening would flash, giving them a little more light to see by. Rain continued to pound the roof and sides of the RV.

Clint reached up and pulled the curtains aside, allowing more dim light into the room. A flash of lightening allowed him to see her dark eyes, looking right into his.

“You don’t have to be alone.” Clint offered. His mind kept focusing on her hands, resting on his bare chest. “We don’t have to be alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m so tired of being alone and scared.” She whispered, giving voice to thoughts she refused to admit to even herself.

“Dee, it can be you and me for as long as you want.” Clint’s hands somehow found her hips and he admitted, “I don’t want to be alone either.”

It was true, he didn't have to be alone. He was self isolating from his friends and those who still cared for him. But he couldn't look them in the eye the way he could look at her. He blamed them and that wasn't right. She was nothing more than another person caught up in the failure. Like him, she hurt from the loss.

It’s hard to say who initiated it first. It seemed as if a crack of thunder and a flash of lightening was all it took to break their resolves. In times of pain, in times of stress humans have been known to result to indulging in each other in the most primal ways. Perhaps it was to remind themselves that they were not alone. Perhaps to cement the bonds of trust. Perhaps they simply wished to forget, to feel for a few short moments before reality crashed around them once again. In truth, the whys didn't matter.

His lips were on hers before either could second guess themselves. Her fingers found the hair at the back of his head and tangled in the soft strands. Deep breaths shook through each of them as they clung to each other, riding out emotions they couldn’t even begin to give voice to.

Strong hands gripped her even as they slipped around her hips and up her back, pulling her closer and closer with each breath as lips moved together. Somehow, she had ended up pulled up, straddling his legs. One of his legs was pulled up, supporting her as she hovered over him.

He felt so strong. She could feel the thick muscle of his thigh as she rocked against it. Pulling her hand from his hair, she gave the strands a slight tug and he hummed into the kiss. Bracing against his shoulders, she rocked herself again. When a gasp slipped from her lips, he captured the lower lip between his teeth and gave a tug.

She couldn’t help but moan as his hands gripped her hair tightly as he sat up only to let go and run his hands down her back. With a strong grip, he lifted her up off his thigh. A giggle slipped from her at his show of strength as she was lifted and placed on her back.

Each time he moved, Clint was mindful of her tightly wrapped ankle. He crouched over her now, one knee resting between her thighs as her hands roamed his back. Each found the other’s touch addicting. There was a comfort in each gasp, each sighed moan. Each kiss soothed the ache within their their hearts.

Neither spoke, even as his hands slipped under her shirt. Each worried that if they spoke, whatever it was happening would shatter. His thumbs brushed up against the delicate swell of the underside of her breast and her leg ran up the side of his. It was all going fine until she went to hook her ankle around his thigh.

“Ow. Fuck. Ow.”

“Shit, what did I do?” Clint leaned back, taking all weight off of her.

“Nothing, not you. Foot. Forgot.” The moment was shattered.

Clint sat back wholly now, supporting his weight as he looked back at the wrapped ankle. Guilt washed over him. He had said he wouldn’t take advantage but here he somehow was, shirtless, panting and stiff over a woman who had done nothing but show him a little kindness. And he had hurt her for it.

“I’m sorry.” His breaths where harsh now for a whole different reason. “God, I said I wouldn’t take advantage- that I was better than those guys and here I am. I’ll leave. I’ll go and you’ll never see me-”

“Wait.” Deanna had to repeat the word a few times, finally yelling it to get his rambling to stop before pleading, “Don’t go? Don’t leave me.”

Clint looked at her in the dim light from the window. It was hardly anything to see by with the storm raging outside but she could still see him. She could see the shape of him, all tense muscle and latent strength. The flash of lightening lit up his eyes, downcast and unsure.

“I hurt you.” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to use you.”

Deanna rose up and crawled to the edge of the bed. “You didn’t hurt me. You saved me, Clint. I just forgot about my foot.”

When she reached out for him, her fingers hooking loosely around his, he didn’t back away. With a soft tug, she pulled him toward the bed and he went, each step reluctant still. Neither spoke until he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs and head hanging. She rubbed the soft skin of his back as they sat together, waiting for the other to speak for a few moments.

“I am- I was? Married.” Clint carefully spoke, fingers twisting the gold band around his finger. She’d never noticed it until now.

“She was…” How do you ask these sort of questions?

“Dusted.” He finished. “Her and my kids. Whole family. Just gone.”

“She’s not coming back.” Deanna offered. “You said it can’t be undone. All we can do is move on. Or at least try to.”

“I don’t- I’m not trying to replace her with you, Dee.”

“I know.” She spoke, though she didn’t really. “I don’t want to replace her. I’m not her, I’ll never be her. But you’re not using me any more than I’m using you. If we’re a team though, is it really ‘using’?”

“I should…” he motioned with his limp hand toward the door.

“Stay.”

“Dee…”

“I… I’ve been alone a lot. Even before…” She took a deep breath and Clint reached out, resting a warm hand on her knee. It felt good to have him reach out for her again. To initiate a connection again. “Before the… I’ve been a single mother for over a year. Just… just me and them.”

“What happened to their father?”

“He was having an affair. At least I think so. I came home from picking the kids up from school and the locks were changed on the house. The divorce papers were in an envelope taped to the door.”

“And that was that?” Clint looked to her, horrified. As a husband and a father, he couldn’t wrap his mind around such actions.

“And that was that.” She agreed. “I’ve been alone since. I spent all my time trying to be the best mom I could be. I worked hard to save and buy a house for them to replace the one he took from us. And now some… some… thing took it all from me.”

Clint’s fingers brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t even been aware that she had started crying. “You did everything right. We said we’d protect everyone and failed. You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

“But if I didn’t put them on that bus…”

“We still would have failed and they still would have turned to dust.” She was silent. She couldn’t bear to tell him, to speak the words and give voice to what exactly had happened that day. It didn’t matter, did it? Dust or Ashes, they were still gone. “They’re gone because I failed everyone. I failed my family. I failed you. I failed everyone.”

“Stop.” She gripped his arm tighter, trying to draw his attention to her. “Were you there?”

“No. But I should have been. God I should have been. I could have stopped it. I could have saved everyone. I could have saved them.”

“You don’t know that, do you?”

“I- I wasn’t… I could have…”

“Done what?” Deanna demanded, finally pulling at his arm hard enough to get him to look at her. There was a shattered look in his eyes. “What could you have done, really?”

“I-”

“I heard about the battle fro a farmer. He got word from someone who came from the east. I don't know how reliable that is but, they said Thor was there. He’s a god. And armies. Captain America and so many others with super powers.”

“I could have…”

“You could have died.” Deanna pressed. “And nothing else could have changed.”

“Maybe that would have been better.” His breath shuddered and she knew that sort of thought all too well. She’d thought it many times in the last few weeks.

“Would it have been?” She whispered. “If you weren’t there, if you were dead already… what would have happened to me? They’d be… what? Raping me? Torturing me for fighting back? Maybe I’d be dead now too.”

“I don’t know how to keep going.” Clint admitted to the dark room.

“One day at a time. Because she’d want you to go on, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.” It was more of a breath than a spoken word.

“So, let’s go on. Together. As a team.”

“As a team.” He repeated the words again and again. A team. They could be a team. Together. He could trust her and she could trust him. It had originally been his idea but the reality of not being alone hadn’t occurred to him. Clint hadn’t realized the weight of loneliness was crushing him.

“We’ll be a team. We’ll work together. You’ll help me since I can hardly walk and I’ll make food and coffee.”

“And we won’t be alone.”

“We won’t be alone. And when you feel like it’s better if you were dead, I’ll remind you that I need you. And when I feel like that, you’ll pull me out of it too.”

Clint didn’t say anything. He nodded and looked at his hands again for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m not a great man. But I do my best.”

“That’s all any of us can do.” Fingers laced together in the darkness. “I think maybe being a ‘great man’ means something else in this new world.”

“Let’s get some sleep.” Clint decided, feeling the weight of the night on his heart. His head pounded and his eyes burned. Part of him wanted to run far away from this RV, rain be damned. The storm could sweep him away and wash away the thoughts he had, the urges and the desire to betray his wife.

“Yeah.” Deanna agreed, dragging herself up to the head of the bed. He stood and handed her the stuffed fox that had fallen to the floor. She had been so distracted and caught up in her pain, then Clint that she hadn’t noticed it fell. The small blanket of Frankie’s was bunched up on the corner of the bed.

She expected him to leave, to walk out of the small bedroom and take his place back on the dinette turned bed. She expected to spend the rest of the night fighting back the loneliness and pain.

Instead, she watched as Clint pulled back the blankets and after a moment of hesitation, slide into the bed. She hesitated as he relaxed into the mattress. In the dim light, she watched as he turned onto his side, facing her. She wasn’t sure what she should do, what he wanted her to do. In the heat of the moment, everything had seemed so sure.

“Can I hold you, Dee?” Whispered words spilled into the darkness.

She scooted closer. Warm arms pulled her the rest of the way to him, ever mindful of her foot. With her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, she could smell him and that offered a comfort she didn’t know she was after. Under her hand, soft skin was stretched over the muscled expanse of his chest.

They moved together, with each breath they took. She could feel his heartbeat under her fingertips. It was hard for her to begin to understand how he gained comfort from holding her in his arms but she wasn’t one to complain. She felt safer that night as she drifted to sleep than she had in a very long time.


	12. One foot in front of the other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? We're back! Chapter warnings: Just dealing with grief, really.

(about one month post snap)

It was warm, though rain continued to patter against the roof. She felt warm and comfortable. Deanna didn’t want to open her eyes and face the day. Under her nose, the ear of the stuffed fox tickled her and she tried to ignore it. For a bit, she was successful and continued to doze as she nuzzled deeper into the firm warmth.

Wind gusted and the RV rocked slightly. The movement was enough to shift the bodies in the bed. Trust let out a whine as he rolled over before snorting a breath. The firm mass of warmth seemed to tighten around her, holding her closer somehow. It was the most restful sleep she had since… something? It didn’t matter. A few more minutes of sleep and she’d get up and make breakfast for the kids. A soft snore left the mass of firm warmth and she realized with a start that it was a man she was cuddled next to.

She jerked away harshly. Trust lifted his head, checking for the source of her commotion only to rest it back down on his paw. The warmth wrapped around her bare waist tightened, causing her to pull back with more force on instinct alone.

~~~<3

Clint was forced awake with a start. There wasn’t much he was aware of in that first instant, yet in some ways he was aware of everything. His arm tightened around to body pressed against him as every part of him tensed. He listened and upon finding no reason for the panic, he let his arm go slack as he sat up.

“Dee, what’s up?” He mumbled, rubbing his eye. She kept scooting and right before she reached the edge of the bed, he reached out for her. “Hey, hey. You’re going to fall off. What’s wrong?”

“I… Clint?” The sound of his voice calmed her.

“Yeah, Dee. It’s me.” Sitting up, he reached for her. It’s hard to say if he reached out for her to calm his own frazzled nerves or to calm her. To his own relief, she allowed him to scoop her into his arms. She clung to him as he held her, tears giving away her silent cries. “What happened?”

“I-” Clint lead her through a deep breath before she tried again. “I’ve been alone so long. I realized I wasn’t and…”

“It scared you?” Clint asked. “I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have.”

“Stop.” Thin fingers dug into his arm where she cling to him, his arms wrapped around her protectively. “You were going to say you shouldn’t have stayed, right?”

“Yeah. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t upset me.”

“You nearly fell out of the bed to get away from me.” Clint pointed out.

“It’s been almost a year since I’ve woken up with a man in my bed. And with everything that happened… I- It startled me is all.”

“Tonight, I can-”

“Stay. If you want, that is.” She finished for him. “I slept better than I have in months. It will take some getting used to. Everything takes getting used to now.”

“Time helps.”

“Will it?” She asked.

“It will. It won’t ever go away, but it helps.” Clint was waiting for time to pass, himself. Each day after the snap was one day farther away from the day he failed his family.

“I was so comfortable. I was so relaxed.”

“What changed?”

“I was thinking how I should enjoy it until… They woke me up. Because the bed was so warm, I felt- I felt safe.”

“You are safe.”

~~~~~<3

Clint was kind, helping Deanna to gather her clothes and stepping out for her to dress. Her ex husband had never been as considerate. When she called him back in, he had his shirt slipped back on. A part of her that had been dormant for far too long had whispered in disappointment to see his firm chest and defined abs covered by the clingy cloth.

“What’s the morning chores?” He asked after helping her hobble into the living space.

“Normally I check out the windows for anyone hiding outside. Then I go outside and walk around, checking that nothings weird.”

“Ever find anything?” Clint asked, checking out the front of the cab and beginning to work his way around.

“Once.” She answered, shortly. It was clear that it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.

“Guess it’s a good thing you handled it well enough to still be here.” Clint made his way out from the bedroom, brushing his hand across her lower back as he checked out the window in front of the sink. Just as it had the night prior, the simple touch of affection and reassurance gave her warmth. “Everything looks clear. I’ll go do the walk around.”

“It’s raining.” Clint smiled at her concern. It felt good to have someone worry over him stepping out in the rain.

“I promise not to melt.”

Deanna laughed as he slipped his boots on. With his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he gave her a warm smile. Then he slipped out the metal door, leaving her standing in the living space with a bemused smile on her face. Could this be something she got used to? Was this something she wanted to continue after her ankle healed and she could drive again?

With a shake of her head, she opened the curtains over the sink. It felt safer, knowing that he was outside, checking the area. It felt safer, knowing she wasn’t alone. Deanna put such thoughts out of her mind, instead focusing on keeping weight off her foot while preparing first coffee. Once that was accomplished, she started on getting a simple breakfast going.

The coffee pot was almost full and eggs were sizzling in one pan when Clint came in through the door, announcing an ‘all clear’ ruling as he slipped out of the muddy boots. In the second pan, she had slices of ham cooking up. It wasn’t bacon but it was better than nothing. On two places to the side were slices of toast, fresh out of the toaster.

“Smells delicious.” Clint offered, wasting no time in doctoring him a cup of coffee before making one for her. “How do you take it?”

“Just some sugar is fine.” Deanna slipped eggs onto plates before adding the ham.

With the burners turned off, she picked up one plate and handed it to him. Clint set it and his coffee on the table next to the mug he made for her. Deanna took a step, forgetting momentarily about her foot and as pain flared to life, watched as the plate of valuable food slipped out of her fingers.

She expected it to hit the ground, a waste and mess both for her to lament for the rest of the day. Instead, Clint reached out and in one hand, caught the plate and all it’s contents. His other hand slipped around her waist, taking the weight off her foot before she could crumple to the ground.

Setting the plate aside, he slipped the now free hand under her knees and swept her up off her feet. “You’ve got to take it easy. Let it heal.”

“I just feel so useless.” Deanna grumbled as he set her on the dinette bench.

“Well, you feed me- that’s a task on its own.” Clint smiled, sitting down across from her. “It will heal and then you’ll be as good as new.”

“I hope so.”

“The weather’s terrible today. We can head out or ride the storm out, your choice.” Clint offered, between bites of food.

“How far is it?”

“A few hours to my place.” He shrugged. “Could be longer depending on the weather. It's about a hundred miles, give or take.”

“I guess we’ll wing it.”

“So, tell me about your set up?” Clint leaned back, plate cleared of food. It was so damn nice to not be eating out of a can. “How did this end up being your plan?”

“It wasn’t really my plan.” Deanna admitted before launching into the story of Lewis, her first short lived companion. When she fell silent, he reached out and took her hand in his. It made sense to him now why she feared for his life. They each had seen a lot of death in the last handful of weeks but he knew how speaking of it seemed to make it feel all the more raw.

“It’s a pretty smart set up.” Clint offered when her story was finished and she seemed steady once again. “The solar panels can keep you in power for years. At least on clear days. Having a functioning shower, way to store a lot of water, a way to keep waste out of it, a way to store and cook food... you’ve got everything you need for the first year, assuming you can keep warm through the winter”

“A lot of good the solar is doing us now. Batteries will be dry soon.” She scoffed.

“I saw the generator on the back. I can start it up, if you want to hang here. Or we can get moving and stop later.” Clint offered and she shrugged.

“It’s not like I can drive.”

“Hey,” With a squeeze of her hand, he waited for her to look at him again. “I’m not taking over, okay? For as long as we’re together, we’re a team. We make decisions together and you get final say. Okay?”

She nodded and he squeezed her hand again. “Okay.”

“What chores still need doing?” Clint added, when she was about to protest, “You’re ankle needs to rest.”

“Trust needs feeding and to be let out. While he’s doing his thing I normally check the plants in the greenhouse. Then I kinda just… do whatever? I’ve been meandering around, trying to decide where I want to go before it gets cold and grab what supplies I need on the way. I didn’t really have a long term plan. I guess I haven't really thought more than a few weeks head.”

“Makes sense. The government said they would be providing aid. You have no reason to doubt them.”

“Clint, is there any aid coming? Is anyone coming to help?”

“I… I don’t think so. Not anytime soon on a federal level, last I heard.”

“Last you heard? What does that mean?”

“That I’ve fallen off the grid a bit. I just… I couldn’t face them. But last I heard, there are massive holes in the government. A lot of people are not sure who they are reporting to right now and just doing the best they can. A lot of those who didn’t get Dusted abandoned their posts.”

“Is there even a United States anymore?”

Clint shrugged. “Not really, no. I wouldn’t say so at least.”

When Deanna didn’t ask anything else, Clint stood and picked up the dishes and made quick work of the washing up. As if it had always been his duty as he poured kibble into Trust’s bowl and refilled the water dish before grabbing a jug of water for the plants. With boots slipped on and a nod her way, he disappeared out the door, leaving Deanna with her thoughts.

~~~~~<3

Clint stood motionless outside the door for a moment. He felt the heavy weight in his chest as it threatened to suffocate him. If he wasn’t careful, that weight could crush him. It was hard to say if he deserved to be crushed by that weight.

Looking up, he let the rain fall on his face. It was more of a misty sprinkle now but dark clouds were on the horizon. The rain was dirty, falling from a dust filled sky and left a oily residue behind.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to rush though his tasks, rush the Dog through his potty break and head back inside. Dee would surely let him take a shower. A hot shower would feel amazing too, washing away the grim and grief and be clean of it. That was until it collected again.

Another part of him, that part that hated himself for how easy he had found it to fall into the embrace of a woman who wasn’t Laura wanted to stand out in the rain all day. Let the oily dust and ashes cover him, soak into his clothes and hair. Mark him up for the failure, for the traitor he was.

Thunder clashed in the distance. He needed to get moving, if they were going to cover any distance today at all. A storm was coming. Someone at SHIELD had mentioned something about storms being expected to be an issue in the first year. He couldn’t for the life of him remember who it was who said it or why that was. Probably dust and ash and electricity or something along those lines. It hadn’t mattered at the time.

Laura had always loved storms. He hated them, they made working and hunting harder. But she had always seen the positive side of things. She reveled in the show of nature. There were many times when she would disappear from the house after the kids had gone to bed. Clint would find her standing on the porch, mug of tea in hand and eyes glued to the sky as lightening danced in the distance.

Laura. Now she was a part of the thing she had so loved, in a way. That brought the slightest comfort to his troubled heart. With a heavy sigh, he made his way to the greenhouse on wheels, opened the door and sat on the dirty ground. With his head hanging in his hands, he tried to think straight.

A bolt of lightening cut through the sky in the distance and part of him wondered if it was Laura, giving him a sign. It was irrational at best. Still, it made him think. While this weight was trying to crush him alive, he had to stop and ask himself: What would Laura actually think? What would she want him to do?

Move on. Move forward. Find his way.

She wouldn’t want him to live in the past. She was gone. The kids were gone. Natasha had said it herself, the Stones were gone. There was no undoing the decimation. No one could bring them back. All anyone could do was move forward. There wasn't a rule book saying how long he had to take, how soon was too soon.

Perhaps Dee had been a blessing. She was smart and quick. She was managing to survive after her own children were turned to dust, much like his. Together, they could offer each other a measure of comfort. Together, they could try and move forward.

“Oh, Laura.” Clint sighed the words as he stood up, feeling his age now more than perhaps ever before. “Forgive me.”

Seemingly meant just for him, a bolt of lightening danced across the sky. It was large and bright with many branches. It was the kind of bolt Laura had always been excited to catch sight of.

Clint smiled, feeling the weight around his chest lighten just a hair and made his way out of the oily mist and into the greenhouse. The plants needed watering and he would do well to check the trailer’s connections and stability of the greenhouse shed while he was at it.

~~~~~<3

Deanna hobbled her way about the RV, taking a careful shower while Clint worked outside. While she scrubbed herself clean, she tried to talk herself out of feeling whatever it was she was beginning to feel. The man had been a familiar face and nothing more not even 24 hours ago.

He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his heart, he held the grief of being the lone survivor of his family. She had no business wanting anything from him more than simple kindness and to drive her RV until she could.

It wouldn’t do to let her heart get ahead of her. It would be best if she prevented emotions from getting wrapped up in what was surely going to be a simple short companionship. He was kind. He was sweet. He was thoughtful. He was flirty. He was confident. It didn’t have to mean anything more.

Shutting off the water, she toweled dry and dressed. Hobbling out of the bathroom, she smiled up at him when Clint walked through the door. “You’ve got to be chilled. Go, take a shower and rinse that… grime off of you.”

It was easier to call it ‘grime’ than what it was. Dust. Ash. Residue of what had once been people.

“I hoped you would offer.” Clint laughed, pulling his wet shirt up and over his head.

Deanna tried not to look as he leaned outside and twisted the fabric. Dark water poured out of it but she wasn’t watching that. One deep breath in and she closed her eyes. He was only a friend.

“We can stop in the next town, hopefully I can find some dry clothes until we get to my place.” Clint set the still damp shirt in the sink as he made his way inside. Trust, knowing better than to go into the living space with the grim and mud on him took his place behind the seats in the cab of the RV.

“Sounds good.” Her voice was tighter than she would have liked.

“You okay?” Of course he noticed. If there was anything she had ever wished he didn’t notice in the last 24 hours, that would be it. At least, she reasoned, he didn’t call her out on the way she was looking at his exposed torso- if he even noticed at all.

“Fine.” The answer was too quick but he let it slide. “I’ve got a generator at my place, we can hook you up to it and you won’t have to worry about power. I’m sure I’ve got an electric heater we can use to heat this so you’re not running gas as much too. The well water is clean so we won’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t want you to burn through your generator’s fuel for me.” Sitting down on the couch, she was thankful to at least be off her feet. It was easier to avoid moving her ankle if she wasn’t standing.

“It’s not a problem. It’s kind of self fueling.” Clint shrugged, making his way toward the shower.

“What, like Stark Tower?” She called after him.

“Yeah, on a much smaller scale though. Tony wanted to see if he could out fit it on a small scale and have the power source remain stable. I’ve got the first successful test. He had hoped to take it public in the next few years but...” Clint shrugged and she understood. The world changed and now, there was more pressing matters on the minds of those who remained than something like ‘free power’.


	13. Rainy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this chapter.

Deanna looked over to the driver’s seat. Clint’s strong arm’s were on display as he confidently drove the RV. Wind whipped against the vehicle, slowing their progress. Rain pelted the windshield. They’d only been driving for half an hour when the storm began to really pick up. Both knew unless there was a break in the weather, they’d not make it the almost hundred miles to his home.

“There’s a town a little ahead. We’ll stop and see what supplies we can get.” Clint’s voice broke the silence. “I’d like to see if we can find a brace or something for your foot so it heals better.”

“Okay.” Deanna muttered, looking from his strong arms down to her hands where her fingers fidgeted.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” One word answers were doing nothing to convince Clint. He pulled the RV into a slow stop in the middle of the old highway. They avoided the interstates with the countless abandoned cars, trucks and accidents. It was something that Deanna hadn’t thought of doing.

“What’s up?” Clint put the RV in park and turned to look at her. “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing- I’m just being dumb.”

“It’s not nothing if it bothers you. We’re a team.” He motioned between them. “You and me- we’re a team. And as long as we’re a team, we gotta talk to each other. I’m not taking control of this boat, we’re sharing it. Now, what’s bothering you?”

She picked at her fingers until he reached out and the strong hands she had been admiring closed over hers, stilling them. “Are you sure it’s going to be safe?”

“What?” Clint was surprised by the worry she admitted.

“I know it’s dumb. But after what happened yesterday… What if more people like that are in the town? I can’t run, I can’t even walk.”

“I’ll protect you.” Clint answered simply. “I wouldn’t suggest going to the town with you hurt if I didn’t think it would be safe.”

“How do you know that? Really, how can we know anywhere is safe?”

“We can’t. But this town- I went through the day before yesterday. It was pretty much deserted. Some older people who aren’t in the condition to migrate and just want to keep chugging along. They’ll all be inside with this storm though.”

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Trust me, babe?”

They both seemed surprised by the term of endearment, but still Deanna answered, “I trust you.”

And she did trust him. Still, when they rolled into the town, she was on edge. As impossible as it was, she tried to keep her eyes everywhere. Around them torrential rains fell, battering the RV and making rivers along the ground.

“Is this weather normal?”

Clint thought before answering. “Not this time of year. Banner mentioned that we’re going to have some weird weather until the atmosphere clears the ash. It's not his area of expertise though.”

“Will we be okay?”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Clint smiled at her, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze as he pulled up to a pharmacy. “I’ll be right back.”

~~~~~<3

Clint tried to look up and down the street as he stepped out of the RV but the rain, thick and dark made it hard to see anything. The water was oily, like much of the rain in the last month had been. He could only pray that it would let up soon and he wouldn’t feel like he needed a shower every time it touched him.

The RV was left running, on the off chance that she needed to make a get away. They both hoped she wouldn’t- driving would be painful with her ankle. He didn’t think it would come to that but if it did, he'd rather her leave him behind. She had no reason to stay for him.

Sprinting the short distance to the doors of the pharmacy, Clint didn’t slow down as they came closer and close. He used the momentum of the run to break through the glass doors. Like many things in this small town, the doors were old and outdated, still easy to shatter plane glass. Luckily he made it through without suffering anything worse than a few scratches.

Once inside, he wasted no time looking through the untouched store with a wheeled shopping cart. As he ‘shopped’ he tossed jugs of water into the cart and swept can after can of vegetables, fruit and pasta meals up. You can’t have too much ravioli, in his opinion.

The loaves of bread had molded on the shelves. A stuffy smell hung in the air, no doubt from the mold and rotting fruits. While there was more waters in the coolers, Clint had no interest in opening them and setting free the smell of the rotting foods and drinks inside. That water would have to wait for someone more desperate.

Bags of trail mix went into the cart. These items that happened to populate small local pharmacies weren’t really why he went in however. They could get water damn near anywhere. He knew how to filter it, purify it. Plus he had a well. Still, it was a good habit. Without a thought he threw in an ankle boot that looked as if it would fit.

As if it was nothing, Clint vaulted over the counter. It was an old fashioned pharmacy with the back room closed and locked. It made sense that they hadn’t invested in shatter resistant glass for their doors when all the good stuff would be kept behind another set of doors.

As he expected, the door was locked. Looking around the dim space he tried to find something to pick the lock with. When nothing of significance jumped out at him, he settled for kicking the door in. Or at least trying to do so.

One hard kick rattled the door. He backed up and took a running jump, hoping that the force would do the trick. It didn’t. When he crashed to the floor without the satisfaction of taking the door down with him, he was thankful Dee was waiting in the RV. She didn’t need to see that. No one needed to see that. The less witnesses, the better.

Using the counter to pull himself up with a groan, he was about ready to admit defeat. Extra antibiotics and painkillers weren’t worth breaking his body for. His palm was on a paper and as he pulled himself up, the paper slipped off the counter sending him crashing onto the hard surface.

That was it, Clint decided. Today simply wasn’t the day he would be grabbing extra medical supplies. It was a nice thought, a few vials of epinephrine, some syringes, antibiotics, painkillers, antivirals and even iodine to purify the water when bottles ran out if they were away from the well would have all been great. It was a nice little shopping list that would have to wait for another day. Hopefully Dee didn’t have any allergies he’d have to worry about.

The thought stopped him for a moment. He was thinking about her in the longer term. He assumed that if she had allergies, they would be together long enough for it to be his problem, for it to matter.

Guilt washed over him as he made his way back to the cart. He looked up, examining the ceiling while he reminded himself that Laura was gone. She wasn’t coming back and she wouldn’t want him to be alone. Laura had always said he was no good alone. As long as Deanna wanted him around, he wasn’t alone. She would understand, right?

In the back of his mind a voice whispered that he didn’t have to be alone before Deanna either. It whispered that he left, turned his back on his friends. It reminded him of the satellite phone sitting on his kitchen counter in the farmhouse. He pushed that voice right down to join his guilt and let the quiet rage at their failure eat away at it.

As he was looking up at the ceiling, Clint started walking forward again while pushing the cart absentmindedly. Rather abruptly, the cart crashed into a shelf and he rammed his abdomen into the metal bar with a grunt. Really, he needed to watch where the hell he was walking.

The shelf he crashed into had a display of umbrellas hanging off of hooks. They rattled and clacked together and against the shelf. It was like a sign from above but Clint would much rather believe it was a sign from Laura when two umbrellas fell into his cart. Only two.

He had to move on. He had to move forward. There wasn’t anything he could do to change the past. It was done.

Clint took a deep breath and steadied himself before moving on, toward the registers. There wasn’t any power and he had no intention of making even a good faith effort to pay for the goods. But he didn’t feel like pushing the cart through the sticky dark rain and hoping that everything would stay dry.

He loaded up the bags with what loot he had tossed into the cart and hooked them all on his arms. It was awkward but it wasn’t overly heavy, all things considered. He extended the compact wand and stuck the end outside into the rain. Pressing the button on the handle, it sprang opened and he shuffled out and under it.

It kept the rain off of him and mostly off the bags and for that Clint was thankful. From the side window of the RV, he could see Dee watching. It was odd but it felt nice to have someone watching for him, waiting for him. The guilt he expected to feel at the realization wasn’t as sharp as he expected it to be.

And that was a good thing.

Whatever it was that he and Dee had been dancing around, it was a little flame, flickering in the darkness. And it was a good thing. For as long as they shared it, he would hold onto it, nurture it.

She was what he needed, he decided as he smiled up at her. She disappeared from the window and opened the door for him, ushering him inside with a smile of her own. It felt good to have someone watching, waiting for him to come back.

“Any problems?”

“None.” Clint answered, slipping one arm forward he stood in the rain as she took a few bags off his arms at a time. “Place hadn’t been touched since…”

“Since it happened?” Dee filled in for him and Clint gave her an appreciative smile. “I wonder if there are other places like this? Just… empty of people?”

“You’ve done more traveling than I have so far.” Clint shrugged.

Transferring bags from one hand to the other so he could reach inside and set them on the counter. Once free of the weight, he slipped into the door. With it closed behind him and the umbrella folded away, he was thankful to be out from the rain.

“I figured you would have been all over doing…”

“Avenger stuff?” Clint shrugged as he dug around in the bags before settling on being a responsible adult and unpacking the bags to put things away. “I haven’t been.”

This could have been a conversation they had before. But during times of great trauma and extending afterword, the memory becomes a strange thing.

“Oh.” Dee settled on the couch, not sure exactly what it was she should do or say. What she wanted to do was ask ‘why?’ but she couldn’t find it in her to voice the question. He seemed to know, however.

“I went to New York twice. Once shortly after and once when Tony came back.” Clint spoke with his back to her as he put away cans and bottles as if he was talking about the weather. “It was hard to be there. To see them. So I went home and I figured I’d wait for a few weeks for it to get easier. But what got easier was not answering their calls, their messages.”

“Do you blame them?” She asked as Clint took the boot out of the packaging. It was thick and sturdy. He assured her that she would be able to walk with it on without crutches after a bit though it would be awkward and still somewhat painful.

He was silent for a minute, knelt in front of her. Her words froze him for a moment while he worked the boot onto her foot. He hadn't given it voice before. “I don’t want to. I shouldn’t. But…”

“But?” she urged.

“I do.”

The awkward silence hung in the air as Clint urged her to step around, getting used to the heavy weight of the boot. She was still a bit unstable but with her ankle supported and compressed, it felt a hell of a lot better.

Outside, the rain fell harder.

“Should we move on?” Dee asked, hobbling a little faster through the space.

Clint thought for a moment before answering. “We should stay put. Find a wide alley and set up shop for the night.”

“Why an alley?” Deanna slipped into the passenger seat as Clint dumped himself into the driver’s seat and put the RV in gear.

“The storm looks like it could get strong tonight. An alley would protect us from the wind for the night… or however long until the storm blows over.”

“It could take longer than the night?” She asked the RV slowly lumbered down the the road as rain poured down harder.

“Yeah, maybe.” Clint didn’t want to say it but he hoped this storm was as big as he feared. It was nice being away from the farm house. It was nice being with her and only having the shadow of the ghost of Laura hanging over him. “It could be. This time of year- they happen. And with all the dust, the weather’s been wacky at best.”

Deanna asked what they would do if they couldn’t travel and Clint shrugged. She didn’t push it though she wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of spending over a day sitting in one place, riding out a storm. They had little else to do but wait and the idea of it was killing her.

Because she was so preoccupied with her dread, she was completely caught off guard when Clint stopped the RV, pulled close to a building. She looked around but couldn’t spot why they had stopped. Clint was relaxed and at ease, so she felt no cause for alarm. But nothing made sense.

“Grab the umbrella.” Clint ordered, a wide smile on his face.

“What?” She asked dumbly when he handed her a plastic grocery bag.

“For your foot. To keep it dry.” Clint told her, stepping out under the shelter of the umbrella. “Come on, hurry up.”

“What?” Again the word dumbly slipped out of her. “Where are we going?”

“Inside.” Clint answered as if that made anything make more sense.

“Why?” Regardless of her hesitations, Deanna trusted him and began to hobble down the steps. Clint was waiting outside the door with a second umbrella held up and open for her.

“It’s an old video store. Looks untouched too.”

“I thought the only video stores that were left were for…”

“Porn?” Clint said as if it was something they would talk about any other day. “I never understood the appeal of renting porn videos- not physical copies at least. You never know what’s on them.”

“Ew.” Deanna couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with someone who at one point was a part of the team in charge of protecting the whole world.

“Right?” Clint held a hand out for her as she stepped down. “This one is a regular old fashioned one- like a Blockbusters but actually still in business. Their selection probably isn’t that great but it’s like a living dinosaur.”

“More like freshly deceased.” Deanna couldn’t help adding and he laughed.

“A good point.”

While Deanna stood to the side, Clint worked the sliding doors open, using a crowbar to break the lock. She tried not to watch too closely the way his muscles worked and flexed. She tried not to notice how his shoulders moved. But she failed.

Once inside, they left their umbrellas leaning against the wall. Clint assured her repeatedly that this was one of the few towns he knew of that were almost deserted. There were small carts, more of a gimmick than anything but Clint selected one for himself and one for her.

“Grab whatever you want. Candy should still be good. Same goes for the popcorn- there’s enough fucking preservatives in almost everything in here, it’s all probably still safe.”

“So what, we load up on junk food and have a movie night?” Dee laughed in a way that if the world hadn’t just nearly ended a month ago would have given Clint pause and made him worry. Now? He would more be worried if she didn’t show any signs of instability so he ignored the brittle edge to the sound.

“Yeah.” He offered one of his brightest smiles as he grabbed what had been one of the latest action movies and dropped it into his cart. “Why not? The RV has an entertainment system so there isn’t a single reason why we can’t watch some movies. And we’re going to at least have to wait out tonight.”

She wasn’t wholly sold on the idea. It seemed wrong but she didn’t protest. Instead, she walked the aisles- or rather hobbled, the cart helped a lot, next to Clint. While he looked at many action movies, many horrors, more often than not, she watched him put them back on the shelf.

She didn’t question him on it. It was something she understood. There was enough horror in the world right now, enough violence. They didn’t need to indulge in it now and call it ‘entertainment’.

Carts gathered comedy and romance films. Clint laughed as she grabbed a copy of almost every ‘how to’ and documentary she could. When asked why, she reminded him that knowledge was going to soon be in short supply, if the world was indeed not going to be fixed any time soon, who knows what they would need to know.

Sodas and candy were tossed on top. Bags and bags of popcorn joined the piles. Each knew they would be making themselves sick with all the junk but still they added more. When their options had been exhausted they made their way back to the front.

“Is this everything we want?” Clint asked.

“I can’t imagine we need another bag of gummy snacks.” Deanna answered with a chuckle.

“Probably have more than enough.” He agreed.

“You think?” God, Clint realized he loved her laugh, even with that brittle edge to it.

“Well, milady, would you do me the great honor of accompanying me for a movie or six?” He bowed dramatically at the waist with a wide grin on his face but what she couldn’t see was that he was holding his breath.

“I guess I’m not going to find another date around here.” She smiled and Clint could breath again, a little easier now.


	14. Movie Date?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: A bit of PTSD but nothing major.

Deanna insisted on helping load their spoils into the RV, much to Clint’s dismay. He insisted she should rest. For the two trips Dee hobbled into the RV, Clint had made four and managed to take everything else inside.

“So what now?” Dee asked as Clint locked the side door behind them.

“Well, now we find somewhere to shelter us against the wind and buckle down. How’s the foot?”

“Hurts a bit but okay.”

“Probably find a narrow street to park on. Stay in the town for a change. The buildings should give us some protection from the wind.”

“Or it could turn the street into a wind tunnel.” Dee offered with a smile as she made her way to the passenger seat, being ever mindful of her ankle.

“Can’t win them all.” Clint joked but for a short moment, a shadow passed over his face. Dee didn’t say anything. He was right after all, you can’t win everything. He, more than anyone she knew would know that.

The RV roared to life as the rain picked up again, falling in sheets. It took something around half an hour for Clint to settle on a place to park. It was a narrow street between two buildings. There was hardly enough room between the side of the RV slide outs and the walls of the buildings for the side door to open.

Though Deanna didn’t like the cramped feeling or the inability to see in the distance she had to admit with the current weather, she wouldn't have been able to see much in the open either. There was an odd comfort to be had in knowing that there were only two ways someone could sneak up on them. There were only two very limited directions that their RV could even be seen by someone walking by.

Clint made starting the generator look easy. With the rain, they’d had no choice but to use it. The constant ran had left a chill that meant they would also be burning propane to heat the RV. The idea of using such limited resources made Deanna nervous just the same.

“You okay?” Clint asked, stepping inside of the RV while holding his umbrella outside, fighting to close it.

“Fine. I just- It makes me nervous.” Clit nodded at my words. “It’s such a limited resource, such a limited supply.”

“You’ve done a great job making it last, that’s for sure.” While he spoke, he helped her to the couch before pulling out a bag of microwave popcorn. The whorl of the heater was soft in the background. “But I can get us more.” After a moment of hesitation, he rushed to add, “Or get you more if you want to ditch me at the farmhouse.”

“Well, unless we travel more, we won’t need much once we’re at the farmhouse.” Dee added, watching his face for reaction. “If you didn’t mind us staying together, that is.”

“I think I’d really like that.” It felt like the words were so much more important than they sounded. It was as if there were some unknown meaning, unknown promise to them both but there still just the same.

~~~~~<3

The smell of buttery popcorn filled the air within the RV. The air inside was warm as rain pelted the roof. Many of the lights except for what passed as a ‘hall’ light. It gave a warm glow to the space while providing enough light to see by.

The microwave beeped as Clint carried the fluffy blanket from the bedroom. Dee made a mental note to find a throw blanket of some kind for the living space. That way they wouldn’t have to carry the heavy blanket back and forth. Unless, Clint had one he wanted to use.

It occurred to her that she shouldn’t be thinking of things in such a way. While it was clear at least for now, she wanted to stay with Clint and he with her, she was aware they were going to his home, a farmhouse. He mentioned it having access to power and water. Would they even still be living in the RV much longer?

“Need anything for the ankle?” Clint draped the blanket over her, breaking her spell of thought.

“No, it’s not too bad now. The worst of it is over. At least, I think.”

“Still, take it easy on it.” His voice was firm but by no means demanding. “Let me do things for you.”

“You sound like an overbearing boyfriend.” Dee laughed. Clint put one of the romantic comedies she had wanted to watch yet hadn’t planned on requesting. “How did you know I wanted to watch that one?”

“Guess I’m just boyfriend material.” Clint answered with a small smile rather than the wide grin she had expected.

As he settled on the couch next to her, she could feel the warmth from his side. The bowl of popcorn was perched in his lap. While the previews played, she thought back to that small smile and compared it to the wide grins she had often seen in the past. What did those small smiles mean? Were the large grins and carefree attitude a diversion, a mental or social suit of armor? Could those small smiles be Clint, the real man, shining through?

“Want a soda?” He held out a bottle of Pepsi for her and she took it with a mumbled thanks.

When the movie started, she put her troubled thoughts away. Instead she focused on the love story playing out on the screen. She nibbled popcorn and sipped her soda. The taste was far better than she remembered and she had moaned when it first hit her tongue. All the while, she was aware of the warmth from Clint at her side.

As they relaxed into the comfort and normalcy of watching a movie with popcorn, they seemed to melt into the couch. Before the movie was over, they were leaning against each other in a heap, soft snores passing from parted lips as the movie went on unwatched.

~~~~~<3

Clint woke a few hours later to the title screen of the movie. His neck hurt, as did his back. The popcorn spilled on the ground at some point but most had disappeared, likely due to one large dog currently dozing by the door.

Cuddled into his side was Dee. Slung over his thighs were her legs, bent at the knee and feet hanging down. Her fingers curled into his shirt. Her could feel every deep breath she took as he held her a little closer.

Trust snorted and Clint’s eyes were drawn up to the dog, still asleep at the door. His eyes trailed around the room. Rain was pattering against the roof but it was much softer now. The buildings offered protection from the wind and he could hear it howling outside, though the RV did not rock with the force of it.

On the arm of the couch sat the small stuffed fox atop the small folded blanket that she kept with her most of the time. Part of him wished he could do that, stomach the idea of keeping a trinket of Laura and the kids with him. Part of him was jealous of how Dee could clutch to the memory of her kids.

Clint knew he could never forget them. He could never imagine a life where he couldn’t close his eyes and see their faces. It was clear as day to him that she thought herself weak for clinging to those reminders. In truth, he felt weak for not taking a part of his own family with him.

With a sigh, Clint worked his arm under her knees. While she seemed to comfortable enough, his neck ached and his back was screaming at him for having the gull to age. Wiggling his fingers, he gathered up the fluffy blanket that covered them.

He stood and shifted her, bringing her closer to his chest and adjusted his grip. It wouldn’t do to drop her on the way to the bed. That seamed like a sure fire way to end up sleeping on the couch or the dinette bed and really- his back liked the actual bed so much better.

The hall was so narrow that he had to shuffle through sideways to avoid hitting her on the walls. Still, he managed to smack his head rather hard on the door. Biting his lip and whimpering, he tired to ignore the urge to swear. It hurt like a mother fucker but she looked so peaceful.

There it was, as he set her on the bed. That weight of guilt that often seemed to settle in his gut made itself known as he looked down at her. Dee was so peaceful in her sleep. The lines of worry and stress were free from her face and he could just see the woman she had been before her life was ruined.

He blamed himself. It was just one more way he failed. He hadn’t known her at the time but he failed her. Just like he failed Laura and the kids. Just like he failed countless other people. But he had no say in it- it was their call to not bring him into the battle. He trusted them and that was where he failed.

Never again would he trust another to take care of those he cared about. Though it pained him to admit it, he cared about the woman on the bed. He cared about her far more than he should already. He cared about her far more than he had any right to, being a married man who’s wife was only dusted a handful of weeks ago.

But he did. And he failed her once, before knowing her. Clint decided he would not fail her again. No matter where she wanted to go, no matter what she wanted to do, he would follow and he would see to it she was safe. He owed her that much.

Clint wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching her sleep. It was late and he was tired but he couldn’t look away. Would she ever look this at peace when awake again? He would help her find a new peace, he decided. He didn’t know how he would do it, but somehow he would.

In the living space, Trust sneezed. The sound seemed to snap him out the trance he had fallen into. A sigh slipped out of him as he shook his head. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good for him to get wrapped up in his head. Casting his eyes to the ceiling, Clint very much wished he could see Laura again, talk to her. She was his best friend and he missed her. Was it strange that he wished to speak to her about Dee? To get her advice?

He needed to sleep, that much he was sure of. His mind was turning into a puddle of goo and sleep would be the only thing that would help it. Waking after only a few hours of rest hadn’t done him any good at all.

Without another thought, he pulled his shirt off before looking at her jean covered calf poking out from the blanket. While he thought about what he should do about that, he unbuckled his belt and let gravity take his pants down.

It was a slow process, untangling her from the blanket but eventually, he had it off her. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up while he worked. She needed her sleep just as much as he needed his. Plus, as he unbuttoned her jeans and inched them down her hips, it would look rather questionable if she woke right then.

He was lucky. Though at one point she rolled over onto her stomach, she hardly stirred otherwise. It took time to work her jeans down her legs but he was happy to take that time. Part of him felt guilty for it, but he allowed his eyes to travel her legs as he exposed them.

Once he had her out of the jeans, he rolled them up and tossed them in the hamper hidden behind one of the storage doors facing the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed his own discarded clothes and tossed them in as well.

With that cleaned up, he made his way into the living room again where he picked up the bowl and turned off the TV. After taking the time to check that the doors were locked and there was no sign of life outside, he returned to the bedroom where Dee had hardly so much as moved.

He spread the blanket out over the bed and crawled in next to her. For the first time since his wife and children had turned to dust, it felt like he was coming home. A sigh slipped out of him as his back and shoulders relaxed. In just a few short moments, Clint had joined Deanna in a state of sleep provided bliss.

~~~~~<3

Deanna was aware of warmth and the comfortable feeling of the mattress under her. There was that stale taste in her mouth that told her she hadn’t brushed her teeth before falling asleep.

It was dark outside and the rain was falling in sheets. She couldn’t see it but she could hear it, the way the drops pounded against the metal exterior of the RV. The sound was relaxing, even if she knew how tainted that rain was.

Reaching out, she blindly grabbed for the stuffed fox and soft blanket she normally slept with clutched to her heart however her fingers came up empty. Reaching farther still, her fingers found Clint’s bare arm and danced over his chest. They weren’t there.

Rolling over, she began to search the other side of the bed and found nothing. Panic ate at her and she tried to calm her breathing. She didn’t lose them. Nothing was taken. They just fell off the side of the bed. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Reaching down, she groped blindly some more and only found more of the floor. Without a single thought to the sleeping Avenger next to her, she turned on the light as her search got more frantic.

Clint woke with a start but she paid him no mind at all. She looked under pillows and pulled the blanket aside.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was like gravel and any other time she would have taken a moment to appreciate the sound but right now, it hardly registered.

“I can’t find them.” Her voice came tight and high, as if a wire was wound taught and so very close to snapping.

“Find what?” His hand rested on hers for a moment but she yanked it free to look under his pillow.

“My kids. Where are they. I can’t have lost them.”

“You’re kids?” Clint watched as she stood and ripped the blanket off the bed only to throw it back on in a heap.

“Sit down, you’re going to hurt your foot.” Clint stood, holding his hands out to her. “Don’t you remember, your kids- they...”

“I know.” Deanna reached up and pulled her fingers through her messy slept on hair. “I know. I know. But I’ve got to find them.”

“What are you looking for? Tell me exactly and I’ll find them, okay?”

The thing that had stood out to Clint from the moment he had first met Dee was how strong she was. Even with a sprained ankle and no choice but to rely on a stranger’s aid, she always had an air of strength to her. She was solid. Unshakable.

Now, woken in the middle of the night was proof that even she was haunted by the memories of what had happened. He couldn’t fault her for it, he himself had woken many times from a panicked search.

“Their- Aurora's- Oh god. I can’t have lost them.”

It hit Clint in that instant. There was only two things that she was never without. He had been proud of himself, getting her into the bed and out of her jeans without waking her. He had been sure he had thought of everything. But he had forgotten what had turned out to be the most important of things.

It wasn’t locking the doors. It wasn’t checking for people sneaking up on them. It wasn’t turning out lights or making sure Trust had food or water. It wasn’t picking up the popcorn bowl. It wasn’t even turning off the TV.

“Sit here, I think I know what you’re looking for.”

It took a firm hand to guide her to sit on the bed. It was clear as day she didn’t want to just sit but the panic was clouding her mind. Clint worried about her hurting her foot when it was already beginning to heal so well.

She just wanted to find them. She just wanted to hold them. She needed them.

Once he had her sitting, Clint rushed into the living room. In the process, he nearly tripped over Trust. The dog had slept through all the commotion and later, Clint would take it as a sign that the dog trusted him to care for the woman who had become his master.

Sitting neatly on the arm of the sofa was a stuffed fox, well loved and well cared for atop a soft folded baby blanket. She wasn’t looking for her kids, she was looking for all she had left of them.

With upmost care, he picked up the forgotten items and carried them into the bedroom. As soon as her eyes took them in, he watched as every bit of the tension left her. Wordlessly, she reached out and took them from him, holding them tight to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sitting next to her on the bed, Clint rested one large hand on her back and began to slowly rub. “I should have remembered to grab them. You have them every night.”

“You couldn’t have-”

“You have them every night.” He again repeated as she leaned into his touch. Tears dripped from her cheeks as he held her to his side. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered.

“I try so hard.” It felt like a sacred admission, a holy secret.

“You can be weak sometimes. You can cry. You can fall apart. You’re not alone anymore, Dee. I’m right here with you now. I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”


	15. The New System

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None.   
I'll be traveling the first week of December but expect updates as normal at this time. Kit's going to NYC to see Betrayal!

Morning had brought nothing but dark clouds, wind and more inky rain. It was a steady drizzle with cutting gusts. Clint woke first, his whole body stiffening as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t the farmhouse, nor the shed. It was jarring, waking to find himself not where he expected. Still it was something he was growing accustomed to. It was hard not to, with how often he would wake from a half asleep daze, searching. It was the warm body clinging to his that actually rose his alarms.

She was smaller than Laura, was hard in places where Laura had been soft. Laura liked to sleep on her back. Deanna seemed to try to burrow her way into his shoulder and chest, seeking something from him in her sleep.

She wasn’t Laura. Guilt nibbled at his mind as he tightened his arm around her, nestling her closer. Part of him knew damn well that it wasn’t right. Laura had only been gone a month and a half. Part of him wondered if it mattered at all, Laura wouldn’t be coming back. 

“Laura, forgive me.” Clint whispered, turning his head to breath in Deanna’s hair. The fruity smell of her shampoo was just a hint now. Guilt haunted him as he clung to her. That guilt wasn’t enough to drown out how comforting it was to have someone to hold.

He dozed as he held her. The rain pittered against the roof as he relaxed into the mattress. A smile tugged at his lips as her fingers flexed, running along his chest in her sleep. Pinned between her stomach and his side was the stuffed fox and plush blanket that meant so much to her. 

Eventually, the need to pee drew him from the bed. He tried not to wake her as he slipped out from under her. Somehow, he had managed. Stretching his arms over his head, he gave his back a twist this way then that. The harsh sound of his back cracking filled the room, far louder than he had intended.

“What was that?” She mumbled, sitting up and rubbing sleep from her face. 

“My back.” Clint admitted with a wince. “That kind of hurt too. Sorry, I tired not to wake you.”

“I don’t think backs should pop that loudly...” 

“Probably not.” Clint laughed and so the morning started. 

They took their time, enjoying breakfast and coffee. Once Clint was caffeinated, he went out to tend the travel garden. The weather had let up a bit from the night before but seemed to surge in waves.

It was late morning before they pulled out of the ally. It took over two hours to make their way fifty miles before they called it quits. The weather, though calmer than the day prior, was still fierce. It, combined with a scattering of cars and trucks abandoned or wrecked on the road slowed them down to a crawling pace. Clint drove carefully, but neither of them seemed to mind it. 

Most of the day passed with idle chatter as each avoided topics they feared would upset the other. Soon they called it quits and parked for the night. Clint had cooked them dinner that night, dancing to music as she watched with amusement. Once they ate, they passed the time with movies. It was light and tense somehow at the same time. Evening gave way to night, though one could hardly tell a difference between the two with how heavy the cloud cover was. 

“Is it weird that this feels too normal?” Deanna whispered as the credits began to play on the latest movie. 

She leaned against him, tucked warmly into his side with her legs propped up on the side of the couch. The pain was much better today, likely due to how sedentary she had been all day.

“What? Waiting out a storm with movies and popcorn as the world goes to shit around us?” Clint ran his fingers through her brown waves. 

“Yeah.” The movie played on, neither were all that invested but having it play offered a sense of normal. “Feels like we should always be doing…” Words failed her and her voice trailed off. 

“Some big survival thing, all the time?” Clint offered and she smiled.

“Yeah.” A yawn ripped from her.

“I learned a long time ago how mundane survival is. It’s okay to enjoy it, while it lasts. It’s times like this that make the hard times easier.”

“Will we make it to your place tomorrow?” Deanna didn't look up at him as she asked the question. 

“Probably. Unless the storm shifts enough to keep us in place, we should make it.” 

“What are you going to do when we get there?” Strong fingers ran through her hair, soothing her.

“Not sure. Laundry, for one. Hook you up to the electricity. Give you a tour.”

“Are you sure you want me to stay there?” There it was, Clint thought, the real worry. “I mean, it was your home. Their home. Her home. I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“She’s not coming back.” The words tried to stick in his throat. “You can stay wherever you want, in my house or your house for as long as you want. You can use whatever. Make yourself at home.”

“Do you mean it?” She whispered. “As long as I want?”

“Yeah, Dee. I don’t really want to be alone so… yeah.”

“What if I don’t leave?”

“Than you don’t.” He answered simply.

They let the silence reclaim them as they both focused their attention back on the movie. That was as close to a serious conversation either had felt up for. It didn’t take long for Deanna to drift to sleep.

~~~~~<3 

The weather was better today. Clint drove as they took turns nibbling on crackers smeared with a tuna spread. In the cup holders was bottles of orange soda, sweet and bright. The sky on the other hand, wasn’t all that bright or sweet. 

Clouds still hung thick but now they were whiter. They could even see where the sun was fighting to shine through in places. The radio was an ever shifting sea of soft static as it scanned the channels. They had it on in case someone was broadcasting something of note. 

“Clint?”

“Yeah? Wanna stop? We should be there in about twenty more minutes, maybe longer if the road is washed out but it should be fine.”

“What happened?” She asked the question she had been avoiding.

“What do you mean?” Clint knew exactly what she was asking but a man can hope. 

“To everyone? To the animals? To the world?”

“Oh.” She picked at her fingers as he sat in silence. She was regretting asking the question until he spoke again. “What are they saying?”

“It’s not a lot that makes sense, to be honest.” She shrugged. “Some people said it was the rapture, that its the end of the world.”

“You could say that, I guess. Hell, it could be what the bible meant. Who am I to say?"

“As for actual news, I’ve heard it had to do with the attack on New York but I kinda figured that based on the timing. Something about aliens, again. I guess there was a battle somewhere in Africa against the aliens or whatever and they won. I’ve also heard that it happened in Russia, New York or China. Some also say Russia or China found a new alien weapon and did it somehow. But how it happened? I- Everyone’s just guessing.”

“It’s crazy. You know, ten years ago, I wouldn’t even believe what you just told me.”

“Yeah. It’s crazy.”

“It’s not all that off, really. I guess there are- were, rather- these magical stones. Only a few existed and the more you had, the more power you had. Gather them all and you’re unstoppable.”

“Gotta catch them all.” Her laugh was brittle but Clint joined her in it for a moment anyway. 

“This guy- alien grape who called himself Thanos, managed to get them all.”

“Where were they?” She interrupted.

“All over the universe, apparently. I guess we had a few of them here on Earth.”

“What are the odds of that?” She mused. “I mean, a whole universe to spread them out in and having more than one here?” 

“Right?” Clint laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. In a weird way, it felt good to laugh about something that had in reality torn the very foundation of his life apart. “We- They, really- I guess, tried to stop him from getting them.”

“Where were you?” She regretted asking as weight seemed to crash against his shoulders. “I’m sorry, never mind. Forget it-”

“I watched everything that went down in New York from home. But I trusted them to take care of it. I mean, I’m just a regular man with a neat bow when you boil it down. I figured if they needed me, they would call. But they didn’t and I was on house arrest. If I knew it was all going to go sideways, I would have went anyway but I thought they had it taken care of. I should have gone anyway.”

“No, you didn’t know.” Her soft hand wrapped around his forearm. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“You trusted them. In putting you on house arrest they said they had it without you. In not calling you, they said they could handle it. It’s not your fault they were wrong.”

“Anyway,” He cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders down, though his knuckles remained white. “He came here to get the stones hidden here.”

“Where were they?” She asked, not really able to believe the story yet why couldn’t it be true? People were worshiping Thor and even Loki now that the Norse gods had made themselves known. 

“Loki brought one here with his mind control stick, Tony had that one and put it in Vision. The other one was apparently guarded by a wizard.”

When she burst into what sounded more like hysterical giggles than anything sane, Clint looked over at her. They’d slowed, pulling onto the dirt road that would in twenty miles lead them to his home. “Are you okay?”

“A wizard?” She laughed more. “What is the world, an adventure quest story? Or game?”

“It seems like it, most days. Shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder for the last ten years.”

Silence stretched on for a bit, uneasy and heavy in the air before she spoke again. “All we can do is go on.”

“Yep.”

They sat in silence as the RV rocked as it climbed up the worn dirt road. It kicked up rocks and mud squished under the tires, leaving deep tracks behind them. The rain had almost stopped and for now was more like a mist clinging in the air. The droplets of water were far too small to hold the dusty and grime. It was the first inkling of a world where they water once again ran clear. 

They passed though a fence, standing tall and imposing. It was automated and Deanna was honestly surprised when it simply opened. 

“Camera.” Clint remarked. “Facial scans the driver and passengers. It knows me so opens.”

“Neat.”

“Hooked up to the Stark systems.”

The farmhouse was a brown splat on the ridge of a hill. Around the expansive property were hills and trees. It was all enclosed in a fence standing tall in the distance. The property was beyond impressive and with how large it seemed to be, Deanna had expected the house itself to be much bigger. 

There was a barn style shed off to the side, doors open wide. Inside was an old tractor, hay and so many things Deanna couldn’t even begin to guess their use. Clint pulled the RV up the last small rise in the road before slipping it into the space between the house and barn. Stacked on the side of the porch was a pile of wood, waiting for someone to come along and finish chopping it. 

“This is it.” 

“It’s nice. I didn’t expect it to be so open.” Deanna wasn’t sure what to say, as Clint climbed out of the RV and rushed around to help her. 

“Yeah. Got a lot of land here. I wanted to make sure no one could sneak up or watch us without going through the fence. Stark put in the security system and backup power when he was here last.” He was silent for a spell as he helped her find her feet. 

She couldn’t walk, not really and while she managed almost within the RV, wide open spaces were a challenge for her. She hobbled and Clint wrapped his arm around her back, taking the weight off the still very painful ankle. With his large hand wrapped around her and gripping her side, he held his other hand out in front of her, offering it for stability. It wouldn’t do to help her and end up leaving her so unbalanced they both fell. 

He could have easily picked her up and carried her. It would have been nothing for him. She know that, she had seen his muscles and had been carried by him on that first day. It was nice, that he didn’t do that. 

Her hobbled steps were slow but Clint was patient with her. With great care, he helped her up the steps and into the house. Inside, he found her a wheeled office chair to roll around in, pushing herself with her good foot and holding onto the back to keep herself balanced. 

~~~~~<3

The wheels rolled noisily on the floor. The dust was heavy and each wheel left distinct trails crisscrossing all over the floor. It was tense at first, being in his house surrounded by the pictures and memories of the happy family that had once lived here. Clint spun the chair she was kneeling on as he walked by. He was cleaning out the refrigerator and moving excess flour, sugar and rice from the RV and into his pantry.

He took clothes, towels and bed sheets out of the RV, load after load, though there wasn’t a whole lot in reality. After dropping the first load in what Deanna assumed was a laundry room in the back of the house, the sound of another set of wheels filled the house. He came back through the living room, this time riding his own wheeled office chair.

She chased him through the living room, laughter flowing out of both of them as he rolled back to the front door. When he brought another armful of bedding inside, he plopped it on the chair and rolled it through the house with Deanna on his heels. She navigated the chair over the bump between the two rooms- something Clint told her he had been intending to fix forever- and into the laundry room where she started loading the washer. 

“I can do it.” Clint offered, unloading the bedding onto the ground. 

“So can I.” She didn’t even look at him as she put in shirts and jeans. “Some of these are clean?”

“You mentioned that you’ve been washing them in the rivers.” Clint shrugged. “I figured with how gross the rain has been, I’d rewash everything to get it clean for you. Really clean.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Clint nudged her from where she stood, knee planted on the seat of the chair and shirt balled in her hands. “Now go relax, let me get to it Dee.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I want to help. I’ve been sitting around just letting you do for me. I can at least sit here and load the washer, changed the clothes over without hurting my foot.”

“But you don’t have to. I don’t mind doing-”

“But I do. I’m not useless. Don’t make me be useless.” 

It occurred to Clint that this was about so much more than doing the laundry. Reaching out to her, he rubbed her back in soft circles. This was a world that was all about what you could do. This new world, your value was dependent on what you could do. And right now, she couldn’t even walk. 

“You know you’re not useless.” Clint offered. 

“I am right now.” She snapped. 

He pulled her wheeled perch away from the washer as she threw a shirt inside it, far harder than needed. “Hey. Okay.”

She was sniffling now as she tried to figure out a way to say what she was feeling. “I just… If it wasn’t for you doing everything for me, I’d be dead right now. You have no reason to do anything for me. You have no reason to keep taking care of me. You have no reason. Let me do something. Let me give you a reason to.”

Clint wrapped his arms around her, pulling her and her wheeled perch to him and held her tight. “You’ve fed me.” He offered. “What you don’t realize is being alone was killing me. It was driving me insane. While yeah, right now you can’t walk, you’ve given me a reason to do more than sit around being pissed off at the world.”

“That’s nothing.” 

“It isn’t nothing. Don’t you get it? Until I found you, I woke up in a half mad grief induced daze and nearly every single night I’d go out looking for them. Because the decimation took out fifty percent of the living universe and how is it fair that I lost everyone. Half the time- I don’t even remember going out, looking and I’d wake up in the fucking town or standing in the fields without a shirt or shoes.” She sniffled, loud and ugly but he still smiled down at her. “When your foot is better, if you still want to be here you can clean and take care of the garden and hunt and build a castle if you want.”

“I want to do the laundry now, not later.” She whined before laughing in that brittle way he had come to realize was very much a sign that she was holding on by a thread. “I never thought I’d say that.” 

Clint laughed and leaned forward. It felt completely natural as he brought his lips to hers in a quick soft kiss. He held her for a moment longer before saying, “I’ll bring the laundry in.” and leaving her in the laundry room. 

As he walked through the house, the ghosts of his family looked on, judging him. He made a point to avoid looking at the family photos on the walls. Not once did he look the pictures of Laura in the eyes. As he walked by the fireplace he reached out and put a picture face down.

When night fell, the picture remained face down. Blocked from view of everyone was Clint, smiling wide and dressed in a neat black tuxedo. His arms had been around his smiling bride, dressed in a white gown that she had tried to talk herself out of getting because of the cost. She had about skinned him alive when he called the shop and gave his credit card information behind her back. 


	16. Home sweet home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings. Look at all these no warning chapters. I bet you guys are wondering when I'm going to start hurting you again...

Deanna had forgotten how good it felt to have clean clothes. Yeah, she had done the washing in creeks and they got clean...ish. But now that was nothing compared to how good if felt to slip into a pair of sweatpants still warm from the dryer. The moan that slipped out of her was borderline pornographic.

With a fresh shirt, socks and pants on, the dirty ones went right into the wash. All in all, with the bedding included, there was a good solid four loads of laundry. But boy, once it was done everything felt and smelt amazing. It was easier to be positive, or at least as close to positive as is possible in this new world, when everything was soft and warm.

Still, when Clint helped her back into her camper there was a weight off of her shoulders. It was as if the ghost of the family that had once inhabited the house was still there. She felt like they were watching, judging her for imposing on what should still be their home. She didn’t want to replace them. That wasn’t her goal.

There was no questions asked when she started making dinner in the RV kitchen, carefully balancing all her weight on one foot. If she let the boot rest on the floor and avoided trying to bear weight with that foot, she could almost stand normally.

“Bed’s all made up.” Clint announced as he walked by and plopped dramatically on the couch.

“Thanks.” The word sounded flat coming from her lips.

Clint noticed and pulled himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, you know- just because I made the bed, we don’t have to sleep in here. We can sleep in the house, in the guest bedroom, we can sleep in...” the words died.

“I’m not sleeping with you in your wife’s bed.”

“I wasn’t going to-”

“Yeah you were. You didn’t want to but you were going to offer it anyway.” She turned in his arms awkwardly, shuffling and hopping to manage it. “It’s okay.”

“I-”

“I’m not wanting to replace her. I don’t want to sleep in her bed. I don’t- Look, I don’t know what we are doing but if you want to sleep in your own bed, that’s fine. I like not being alone but I have Trust, I don’t need you.” It was a lie and she knew it. She needed him more than she cared to admit to anyone, to herself.

“But... I think I need you.” Clint admitted what she could not, resting his forehead against hers. “And it’s wrong but.. I think I need someone to need me too. But I won’t sabotage you to make you need me-”

“Clint, I do-” He talked over her, wanting to get the words out before the will to speak them was gone. She had no choice but to swallow her backpedaling.

“When your foot is healed, I won’t force you to stay with me. I won’t do anything to make you need me. But maybe… you’ll need me the same way I need you.”

“What way do you need me? I’m just a burden.”

“You’re not. I need someone to rely on me. Let me have that, at least for now? And-” Clint looked out at the farmhouse through the window then closed his eyes. It was so much easier to focus on her. “If when you’re healed you want to go, you can. But if you don’t, that’s fine. Or if you do but want me to go with, that’s fine too.”

“Clint?”

“I’m over thinking, I know. Just- how about this? Let’s stay in here. Unless you don’t want me to stay with you? We can use the well and I can rig something up for the gray water to drain into the septic and-”

“One day at a time.” She took a shaking breath before starting. “I don’t know what we’re doing. What we are. Let’s just take it one day at a time? I- I don’t want to sleep in there. I like it in here. I would rather you stay in here with me but that is your home, you can sleep where you want.”

Clint reached around her, turning the stove off and moving the pan onto the other burner. No one liked overcooked chicken. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

That’s all it took for the topic to settle itself. They found themselves into a routine of sorts. Each day was peaceful and blended into the other. Clint would be the first to wake and would sneak out of bed to start the coffee. Somehow, she would sleep through this and him climbing back into the bed.

They took turns making breakfasts, much to Deanna’s dismay. She wanted to do as much as she could for him and every time she would try to do more than Clint thought was fair, he would smile and argue. More often than not, he could outlast her.

He would tend her garden as her ankle healed. It was rare that she ventured into the farmhouse. Mainly, she would hobble inside to shower or wash dishes, not wanting to fill her tank with dirty water any faster than needed.

As the first week came to a close, Clint had rigged up a drain from the RV’s gray water tank into his septic system. He was far more proud of the simple set up than he she expected. A hose was secured over the drain pipe and running along the ground to the drain in the shop. While she looked on, he made a show of turning the valve open and standing back with his arms wide.

“How do I know it works?” She asked.

“I… I can show you the tank, if you want to see it? I mean- it’s not-”

“No thank you.” While she had been a mother and changed plenty of diapers, the idea of looking at a tank full of mostly human waste wasn’t high on her list of things she wanted to do with her day.

The next day he set to work hooking the garden hose up to the fresh water tank. Just like that, Deanna’s home on wheels was connected to the water and septic system. Running from the RV to the house sat the brightly colored hoses with the extension cord providing power to the RV from the farmhouse’s generator.

The second week bled into the third as her ankle began to heal. Soon she was hobbling easier and feeling more at peace in her place at the farm. Clint was dutiful in taking the laundry inside for washing and returning the to the RV, warm and dry.

The trees were beginning to turn as September began to roll passed them, not that they were paying the passage of time any mind. They were too busy harvesting produce and strengthening her healing ankle. Clint had painted a target to the back of the shed and as soon as she could stand on her healing ankle, he had her outside and learning to shoot arrows.

She wasn’t really very good at it. Terrible at first and if she was forced to tell the truth, she hated it. It took a week to get an arrow to do anything more than fall at her feet let alone hit the barn. Actually managing to hit the target seemed like a distant dream. Still, Clint seemed to enjoy teaching her more than she enjoyed learning. If it meant keeping that smile on his face, she would suffer through lesson after lesson.

While she didn’t see the point in learning to shoot the arrow, she had to admit her arms were getting stronger, drawing the string back again and again. It wasn’t much, but after the second week of lessons, the string was easier to draw back, just in time for Clint to replace the bow with one even harder to pull.

Turns out, the one he had her using at first was designed for older children. When Clint told her, she was half tempted to smack him with the bow. She didn’t resort to violence purely because she was pretty sure if she had started with the bow she was using now, she wouldn’t have been able to draw the string back.

As time passed, she was better able to walk and with that came the freedom to do more for herself. She would bring the laundry into the house and do the washing every few days while he went out to hunt. It was strange, being in the farmhouse while he was gone and she never lingered inside.

One day, Clint returned earlier than she had expected and was far too proud of himself for her to not have questions. In the back of the truck he had acquired in one of the nearby towns, was a carcass of a deer. There is a flurry of angry squawking from the truck and on a trailer pulled behind, a stack of boxes.

“What the hell?” Deanna could only laugh, standing on the pouch watching Clint climb out of the truck.

“Guess what, Babe?” Deanna watched on as he scurried around the front of the truck with a wide grin on his face. Opening the door to the passenger and back seats, he revealed three cages with relativity angry looking chickens inside. “I found a farm about fifty miles to the south and he had chickens!”

“How did you convince him to give you chickens?” Deanna laughed as the birds protested to their cages being moved but it did nothing to take the pride from Clint’s face.

“So- Jesus these guys are kinda heavy- You know how I take a few bottles of pills with me when I go out hunting? Shit- ow, Tony, don’t bite!”

“You named a chicken Tony?” She deadpanned, watching as he stacked cages on the ground.

“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t, he was already named but I’m not changing it. And Tony’s a rooster.”

“I’m not killing chickens.”

“We’re not! I mean, not all of them at least. The hens are egg layers. If Tony’s naughty we can eat him.”

“Where are we going to keep them?”

“I’ve got a plan, Babe. Don’t you worry.”

“Mhm.” Deanna hummed as Clint swept up the deck stairs and wrapped his arms around her. His hands were cold and his nose was a bit red with the chill in the air. They shared a quick kiss before Clint jogged back down the stairs and around the trailer.

Deanna left him to his task and carried the laundry back inside the RV. There was a chill in the air that kept her running the electric heater most of the time now. She wasn’t even aware that there was an electric heater in the RV until recently. She thought all she had was the propane heater but that was just one of the ways Clint had saved her.

Humming, she set to work making a pot of coffee. It was only a matter of time before they ran out of grounds. Clint was having to travel farther and farther from the farm to find supplies. For now at least, with the chill in the air and Clint clearly having a long day of hard work ahead of him- he deserved a cup of coffee.

While the pot brewed, she watched from the kitchen window as Clint wrestled the deer out of the truck. He had already gutted it and for that, she was thankful. It wasn’t something she wanted to watch him do. After running into the farmhouse, Clint returned and made short work out of carving the meat.

While he worked, Deanna pulled out a pot and set to work cooking rice. It was something she was doing more and more. One of these days, she planned to go out with Clint and try to find a rice cooker or instant pot. Something like that, that she could use to make some easier meals. Since they had access to electricity, why not make use of it?

While the oven heated, she grabbed out some snap peas and tossed a few small handfuls onto the baking sheet that she balanced over the sink. It would have been easier to cook inside the farmhouse but she couldn’t stomach the idea, even now. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to cook in Laura's kitchen.

She grabbed some broccoli and tossed a cutting board onto the dinette table behind her. Once she cut the heads down to smaller bits, she tossed them onto the pan as well. Next went a handful of cherry tomatoes. A quick toss with olive oil, salt and pepper and she slipped the baking sheet into the small oven.

When she next looked outside, Clint had the deer skinned and dismantled. Most of the meat was already inside the farmhouse for storage. It would be good to have meat- they had almost run out and were making what they had stretch. Clint would supplement by hunting wild grouse but they were not very meaty birds.

By the time the vegetables were tender and the rice had finished cooking, Clint had almost gotten everything off the trailer. She made up two bowls and two mugs of coffee and slowly worked her way outside.

The cool weather made her healing ankle feel stiff and she still favored it. He told her it wouldn't be much longer at all until it finished healing.

“What’s all that?” She asked, coming up to his side. There was an ache in her ankle that was telling her that she really needed to sit down and call it a day soon. At least she had accomplished something today.

“Chicken coop.” Clint twisted his back and the sound of cracking filled the air.

“Backs aren’t supposed to do that.” Deanna joked, holding out the two mugs, carefully held in one hand.

“Babe, did you make me coffee?!” Cling moaned, taking both mugs and setting them on the trailer.

“And lunch too.”

“What did I do to deserve such treatment?” He smiled, taking to bowls and sitting on the trailer.

“Brought meat,” She said. “and chickens too. We needed meat.”

“Yeah, noticed we were running low.”

They ate in silence for a bit, each thinking of how strange it was to be here. Not really here, in this physical place in Missouri but here. Building up a self sufficient farm with someone who had been a stranger not very long ago at all. They were figuring their path out. While they supported each other, they were making small steps toward moving on.

Clint leaned to the side, fishing the small satellite phone he carried but rarely used out of his pocket. “Can you put this on the charger for me when you go inside? I need to check in with Nat before she sends a search party for me.”

Deanna nodded, “Sure.”

“Now! Time to show this chicken coop who’s boss!” He stood and stretched, arms reaching toward the bright midday sun and shirt riding up some. “We’ll have eggs before you know it.”

“I’m holding you too that or Tony’s going to be a Thanksgiving turkey.” Deanna laughed.

“Oh!” Clint turned, wide smile on his face. She wondered why he always felt the need to put on a jovial show. It was okay for him to not smile during the day. He didn’t have to hide his pain until night, not with her. “I saw some wild turkeys! Gonna try to get one for us.”

Deanna sat in the sun, watching Clint work for a bit. It didn’t take long for him to wrestle his shirt off as he hauled boxes and polls off the trailer. It was mesmerizing, watching him work in the sun. With skill and precision, he set about building the coop. Power tools whirled to life in his hands as Clint Barton demonstrated that he was so much more than just a sharp shooter.

It was nearly sun down when Clint had the coop finished and the large fence circling it erected. The door latched and locked. Dinner was simmering inside as Clint spread hay along the ground.

Deanna watched from the window over the sink as she stirred the large pot. It would be lunch tomorrow as well. The stew wasn’t very good on it’s own but she had done what she could to perk it up, adding extra carrots, celery and tossing in a small handful of herbs.

In the oven, a small loaf of bread cooked in a silicone loaf pan that Clint had brought home a week prior. Before that, she'd been struggling with a old loaf pan of Laura's. It took more than a few tries, but she could almost make a decent loaf of bread now.

The first few batches she made turned out terrible. So bad that they were sitting in the fridge inside the farmhouse. Clint said it would make some nice supplement for the chicken food at least. A few days ago, she managed to get a loaf to come out tasting right.

Clint showered her in praise that night but it was short lived. Tears had rather unexpectedly gathered in her eyes and before she had a chance to even process why, she was sobbing. Clint was quick and held her tightly in his arms as she wept into his chest.

It was a dumb thing to cry over but he hushed her when she said it. The bread stuck to the pan and while it finally came out of the oven looking and smelling right, it didn’t come out of the pan. They had to break it apart and eat it in pieces- there wasn’t another option.

As Deanna pulled the newest loaf out of oven and sat it on the covered sink to cool. It would pop right out of the new pan without any effort. No more sticking loafs.

The phone on the counter pinged. It was so rare that it ever made noise. In a moment that felt so strangely normal, she picked it up and looked at the notification on the screen.

“Message Received” It read. Below the title, it read “Nat: Will you please let me know you’re okay?”

In a moment, the message faded from the screen. Before she could set the phone down, her eyes were drawn to the date displayed where the message had been. November 7th.


	17. A Birthday With no Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: A minor PTSD event, hunting

November 7th, 15 weeks post Decimation

Her breath froze in her chest as the world felt like it shattered around her. Deanna’s vision seemed to close in, focusing on the single point where the date was displayed on the phone’s screen. Even after the screen went black, she stood there frozen.

The world ticked on around her. With robotic movements, she pulled the pan off the bread and turned off the stove. She wouldn’t remember later but she put the lid on the pot. Her knees wobbled as she walked backward, not even noticing the ache in her ankle as she flopped down on the dinette bench.

That’s where Clint found her some time later. The blanket was bunched against her chest and her whole body was curled around it. Her sobs rocked through her body and he was at a loss over what could have caused them. Looking around, he saw a loaf of bread that looked damn near perfect and the smell of stew- far better than out of the can- was heavy in the air.

“Dinner smells good, Babe.” He said.

It was a dumb thing to say, he knew it even as the words left his mouth. But what else was there to say? He knelt in front of her, wrapping his hands around her ankles. He sat, rubbing his thumb along the ridge of bone under the fabric. After waiting for a moment and giving her the chance to acknowledge him, he realized she wasn’t going to.

With a soft grip, he pulled her legs down, uncurling her. He was mindful of her ankle as he set each foot on either side of his legs. She didn’t fight him as he slowly moved her limbs. His hands moved up, strong fingers rubbing her thighs. He hooked her hair behind her ears as she moved the blanket to her face, hiding in it even as she continued sobbing.

“What is it?”

“He should be here.” She croaked out. The words were almost lost in her watery sobs.

“Who?” Clint’s mind was reeling, working overtime to try and figure out what could be happening as it became clear she wasn’t in a condition to answer. On the table was the stuffed fox, largely discarded at the moment. All her pain and desperation was centered on the blanket. “Frankie?”

“Birth-birthday.”

“It’s Frankie’s Birthday?” Clint asked, glancing back at his phone. It was the only thing that was keeping track of the date in the RV before giving her his full attention. “Hey, hey- I know it hurts.”

She rocked forward, starting to lean into him. She seemed to melt into him, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. There was no shame in it. Clint leaned back, falling on his ass lightly and bracing his back against the counter. She slipped off the bench and into his lap in a limp puddle, clinging to him.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. There wasn’t anything he could say to make it better. It was useless to try. If they were lucky, in a little while the sobs would ease, she would calm and while the sadness would remain- it would always remain- they could begin to move on.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpered.

“It’s fine, Babe.” He rubbed her back as she slowly calmed. “Just breath. I know it hurts.”

“I’m sorry.” Leaning back, she looked at him and Clint hated himself for how beautiful he found her. He hooked some hair behind her ear instead of telling her so.

“Don’t- There isn’t anything to be sorry for.” He whispered.

“You’re not breaking down, crying over the littlest things.”

“I’ll have my turn. It’s just a matter of time, I’m sure.” He was silent for a moment. "It's not a little thing, anyway."

She sniffled as he helped her to her feet, leading her to sit again on the dinette bench. “You have it so together.”

“I really don’t. I put on a good front, I know. I smile and laugh and act like I’m okay. But honestly, I can hardly spend any time in the house alone.”

“Right.”

“Right.” He said, though she gave him a look that showed doubt. “I’m telling the truth! Anyway, sit. Let me bowl up- you’ll feel a bit better after you eat. And after we eat- we can welcome Tony and his ladies to the chicken coop.”

He was right. After she nibbled at the food for a while, she began to feet a bit better. It didn’t take the hurt away, but once she calmed down it was a duller ache. She clutched the blanket in her lap, even as she finished her bowl. It was halfway through the bowl that she began to feel the pangs of hunger resurface.

She didn’t want to eat, not really. But she did eat a second bowl and another slice of bread. Each bite was taken with robotic movements as they ate in silence. When the bowls were again empty, Clint made quick work of putting up the remaining stew. The remnants of the bread were stowed away in the breadbox that now sat on the dining table.

The chickens settled into their coop quickly and by the end of the second week, the hens had begun laying. When Clint went into town to source chicken feed, Deanna came with.

It was the first time she had left the property since Clint had brought her there. It felt strange leaving. As soon as they passed through the gate surrounding the land, she felt on edge and exposed. The weight of Clint’s hand settled over hers, fingers weaving their way between hers.

Looking at him, he offered her a smile. It wasn’t that wide grin he had been giving and she was thankful for it. It was an honest smile, small and reassuring. Only when she let the tension from her shoulders fall, did he bring her knuckles to his lips.

“It will be fine.”

“I know.” She said, though she still worried.

They each had a gun, loaded and at the ready in case they encountered other people. Trust walked around in the back of the truck, unworried as it rocked over the dirt road. The radio scanned the airwaves, finding very little of anything. On the AM channels there was some government broadcasts filling the airwaves. They were all prerecorded and playing on loop to remind anyone hearing that they are a part of the United States of America. As Americans they were expected to act like with honor.

It was just talk, according to Clint. He’d been out almost many times in the last few weeks and hadn’t seen any sign of the world righting itself. When Deanna pressed him for more information, he admitted that the last time he had spoken to Natasha that the government was still in shambles.

The President of the United States did survive the decimation but most of the first family were believed to be dusted. Many high level politicians were still unaccounted for, leaving the House and Senate incomplete. The Vice President had also made it out of the Decimation but died a few weeks later due to what had appeared to be a heart attack.

The government was struggling to locate and consolidate all the surviving members of the high ranks. The military was as fractured as the rest of the government with members at all ranks having gone either to dust or just plain missing. They were hardly managing to maintain control over the eastern coast where a majority of the American population had been located. While the promises of aid to the rest of the country kept coming, nothing had materialized yet and likely wouldn't for a while still. Martial Law was technically in effect but there simply wasn't enough resources to execute and enforce it.

It was hard to think about what it would be like once the government did take control again. It seemed like something far off, if it would ever happen at all. What would that mean for her? Who even would be the owner of the house she had left behind? Would she be charged for past mortgage payments?

“You’re worrying.” Clint announced.

“Am not.”

“About what?” It was clear that he wasn’t going to let it go. It was one of the many things she found endearing about him, though sometimes it did drive her up the wall.

“Dumb shit.” The look he gave her as they turned onto what had once been a main road made it clear he was fishing for a proper answer. “Mortgage payments.”

He laughed, “If the world ever rights itself enough for anyone to give a shit about your mortgage- I’ll pay it.”

“Have you lost your mind.”

“Hey- I can afford it! And it’s not like I’ll be putting anyone through college now.” His joke fell flat the moment he made it. He tried, but it was still too soon for both of them. Perhaps it would always be too soon.

“Yeah.” She whispered and they fell into silence for a good while.

~~~~~<3

“Is that a turkey?” Deanna had never actually seen a wild turkey before. Sure, she knew what they looked like, in theory but seeing one in person was different. Especially just meandering down the highway after they had spent three hours driving around rural back roads looking for them.

“Son of a bitch, it is.” Clint quickly pulled the truck over, not daring to get too close and scare it away. “Trust, keep that barker turned off.” He pointed at the dog in the back seat in warning.

Trust only cocked his head at them before laying down. Poor dog was tired. It had been a long afternoon of running around and exploring and now he wanted nothing but a nap.

Slowly, Clint and Deanna slipped out of the truck. They left the doors open. The one turkey was joined by a second and a smaller third.

“Gun or bow?” Deanna asked, having snagged the bow and a few arrows on her way out. Clint had his own bow over his shoulder.

“Bow. Gun would scare them even more if I miss.”

"You never miss. That's your thing." She chuckled as he crouched down, placing his arrow and began to draw the string back before looking at her and changing his mind.

“What?” She didn’t like how he was looking at her.

“Get into position and take aim. You try and get it.” He whispered.

“I’m not going to hit it.” She harshly whispered back. “And then they’ll all run and we won’t have turkey.”

“Have some faith in yourself, wont you?” She rolled her eyes at him, “Plus, if you miss, I’ll probably be able to shoot it before it gets away. Maybe.”

“See! Even you think I could miss.”

“It’s just in case. I want turkey, dammit. I think you can do it.”

“If you want turkey, you shoot it.”

“Or you can shoot it and we can have turkey.”

“Jesus Christ.” She didn’t want to do this. Shooting a target was one thing and while she was getting better, she was no marksman like him. She’d only make a fool of herself in front of him. Still, she took position. “This is a shitty idea. Why do you want me to do it?”

“I’m testing you.” He hummed. There was something he had learned about people a long time ago. He’d taught more than a few people archery while in the circus and there were three types of students. The first type learned well and could hit a target easy.

The second type… well, they learned but it was slow going. They thought too much. They worried too much and with a target, they had all the time in the world to worry. But give them a time limit and real world consequences, they all of a sudden managed to pull talent out of their ass. It was fascinating and frustrating to teach these type of people.

There was a third type- the simply untalented who would always just be okay. The question was, what type was she? Now was as good of a time to find out than any other. And the pressure of a turkey dinner was far better than nothing. In truth, he could easily take all three turkeys down should she miss her shot but that didn’t matter, she didn’t need to know that they were going to have a turkey or three without a doubt. It was that doubt, that pressure he was counting on, after all.

Her form was better. She didn’t have a wrist guard on or any gear for that matter but she didn’t seem to notice after the initial worry. He watched as she nocked her arrow. Tension rolled of her in waves as her shoulders squared.

He watched as the world fell away around her. There was a focus in her form that wasn’t there when she was taking aim at the shed wall. Determination burned in her eyes and yet, he was sure she didn’t realize it.

She stood, a woman frozen once she had drawn the string back. The arrow rested right above where her hand curled around the bow. The wind blew, carrying dust and grass across the road. It lifted and rustled through her brown waves but otherwise, she remained frozen. A deep breath was calmly pulled in through her nose. Her lips parted and he watched the slight fog of her breath slip between them. Careful, measured and controlled. As the last wisp of breath left her lungs, she released the arrow.

It sailed through the air, aim truer than he had honestly expected. There was a yelp as the string hit her wrist and she dropped the bow but he paid it no mind. He was far too focused on the arrow.

It took only an instant but it was done. She had hit her mark with deadly precision he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t instant kill. The bird made it a few steps with the arrow lodged through it’s chest before it collapsed.

The other two birds were quick to panic. Clint didn’t give them a chance to go far. In a blink of an eye, he sent arrows through the heads of both other turkeys. That would keep them fed for a while yet.

As the feathers settled, she stood motionless. “Did you get them?”

“Two of them.” Clint smiled.

“But there are three...”

“There are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You hit your target.” Clint grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him.

“I hit it?” She asked only to have Clint grin at her. “Holy shit, I hit it!”

She was stunned as he first showed her the two smaller turkeys that he had taken down. Each had an arrow through the skull. It was a clean shot and a quick kill. She nodded when he pointed out that those two he shot before he held up the third one. It was the largest of the three birds and the arrow was lodged in it’s chest, tip extending out of the other side.

“I did that.”

“Yeah.” He set the bird aside and wrapped her up in his arms. “You did. You just needed a push.”

“How did I do that?” She mumbled into his shoulder even as he rocked her in his arms. “I can hardly hit the target on the barn.”

“You’re overthinking it when we practice. Trying too hard and getting caught up in your head, probably.” He held her out to him and there was an excitement that radiated off of him. He was like a giddy child. “Who would have guessed it? You’re a fucking natural shot!”

“I did it. Holy shit, I did it.” His excitement was rubbing off on her and a smile slowly blossomed.

“You’re a natural!” Clint announced as he started dancing to music in his head, pulling her with him as he swayed and spun. In a smooth movement, he pulled her closer again and leaned down. Before she could think about it, his warm lips were on hers.

It was a sweet kiss, innocent and chaste. While they had flirted a lot over the last few weeks, what they had felt like friendship more often than not. This was the way with Clint Barton, it was hot and cold. He’d call her ‘Babe’ and offer intimate little touches during the days. He would hold her at night but that was more often than not as far as thing went.

It wasn’t often that he kissed her. Yet, she lived for these moments. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to let him lead whatever it was they had but at the moment, she wasn’t thinking about that.

“I did it!” She was all but bouncing in his arms as he danced them around on the dusty road. They were feeding off each other’s excitement. “We can have turkey and dressing!”

“And sweet potatoes!” Clint added, just as excited as she was.

“And sweet potatoes!” She agreed, throwing her arms up and around his neck.

She pulled herself to him as the wind gusted around them. His arms wrapped tighter around her. There was an unspoken weight that was lifted off of them. It was something neither of them could explain yet having turkeys, knowing they would have something that could almost be a normal thanksgiving dinner was a great comfort.

She kissed him again without thinking but he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it was the excitement but it felt like they were the only ones left in the world. It felt like the Decimation and the families they used to have was a lifetime ago.

“If we swing to the east before heading home, there’s a pretty decent sized town. Maybe we can find some cranberry sauce or marshmallow fluff?” Clint suggested as he finally pulled himself from her.

With turkeys stored in the cooler in the back, they were on the move again. It was a minor miracle when they stopped at a truck stop for fuel and Clint was able to get the generator behind the shop running. The pump accepted his credit card as if life was normal.

Inside the shop, Deanna found the shop shelves fairly stocked. The cash register had been broken into and emptied but she didn’t pay that any mind. If someone thought they could benefit from money more than overpriced boxes of dressing and food, by all means.

She took her time, loading up a hand basket with as much as she could carry and hauling it outside. They made slow and steady work loading as much food as they could from the store into the truck. Trust ended up sitting cramped on the back seat as the truck bed was taken over.


	18. There’s a new King in town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: gunfire, references to/implied human trafficking.

The air was lighter in the truck, as they made their way back home. The truck itself was significantly heavier, loaded with supplies. While they did consider turning back and going home the way they came, Clint felt much better about exploring. Deanna would have preferred to go straight home.

He liked to know what the state of things was beyond the farmhouse and it had been a while since he had gone out this way. She would much rather go home but there was a part of Clint that was still the hero, the Avenger. She couldn't fault him for that. They knew the way they came was safe, why test their luck?

“What’s that?” Deanna leaned forward. The could see the town in the distance but something was blocking the road. “Is that… Is that a roadblock?”

“Looks like it.” Clint’s voice was tense and his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Why?” She asked. “It doesn’t look like an accident.”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.” Clint slipped his hand out from under hers and gave her a firm look. “Keep your hand on either a gun or a bow. Keep your eyes open.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Something doesn’t feel right.” He was more focused on scanning the area, trying to keep his eyes everywhere at once.

The truck slowed as they came closer to the roadblock. It was made up of trailers stacked two high and set on their sides. The tops faced them with the wheels pointed in toward the town. Large letters were pained in neat black blocks.

“All hail the new King Jacob.” Deanna whispered, reading the words.

“Well, shit.” Clint threw the truck in park.

“What’s wrong?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his bow and quiver from where they rested between the seats. It was less threatening than a gun but made it clear still that he had a weapon on him.

“I’m going to get out and speak to these gentlemen. As soon as I get out, I want you in the driver’s seat. Don’t lock the doors and if we need to scram, I’ll jump in the seat and gun it. If something happens and I can’t make it to you- if I say go without me- go. I’ll catch up.” As he finished speaking, he lowered the windows a few inches.

“Clint-”

“No. I said I’d protect you so let me do that.”

“But-”

“Plus- I can’t be behind the wheel and getting information at the same time. Not having to worry about the get away car helps me. So will you please listen?”

When she didn’t say anything, he opened the driver’s side door. As he slipped out, she slipped herself into the seat. It was warm from him and that made her want to cry- though she couldn’t begin to explain why that was.

As she lifted her leg over the cup holders in the middle, her ankle smacked against the hard plastic. She took a hissing breath as pain bloomed to life. She’d been so good about protecting it and being able to walk on it again was a blessing. Still, all it took was one bad move to aggravate it. One bad twist or solid hit and the joint would swell for a few hours and the pain would be worse for at least the rest of the day. If she was lucky, by morning it would be better.

Now wasn’t the time to think about how badly she may have fucked up her ankle. Whatever she did to it, it would heal. As long as she could manage to drive, that’s what mattered. God, she hoped things didn’t go sideways.

“Afternoon, folks.” Clint spoke, his voice carrying loud and clear through the still air.

“What do you want?” The largest of the men yelled back.

“Just passing through. Didn’t expect to find the road blocked.”

“Yeah well. Gotta pay the toll and get permission from the King before you can pass through here.” A lanky man to the left announced.

“I wasn’t aware we had Kings?” Clint cocked his head to the side in thought for a moment before adding, “Do I pay a toll or get permission to pass? Or do I have to do both?” The men looked at each other, waiting for someone else to step up and clarify. “Is the toll more of a fee to have my case heard by the- you said he called himself a King?”

“King Jacob.” Another man spoke, nodding to himself before continuing. “A King for the people when the systems of the old ways and the rulers of old have abandoned us.”

“Oh...Kay.” These guys were clearly off their rockers. Clint decided it was not in anyone’s best interest to point out monarchies were really the government of old. America didn’t really have ‘rulers of old’, since it was a baby country in the grand view. But they did have one thing right at least, the government that was in place was still in shambles.

“So- what’s the toll?” Clint asked, taking a mental side step around that steaming pile of questions.

“Her.” The man holding the biggest rifle pointed the muzzle at the truck.

“The dog?” Clint knew damn well that they didn’t want the dog. “He’s actually male and you don’t want him. Kinda annoying, that one.”

“Not the dog.” The largest man snapped. “The woman.”

“Oh.” Clint really didn’t want to do this but they were going to make him spell it out for them. “She’s not a thing- not a currency. She’s my companion and equal. I will not trade her for passage like livestock.”

“But she is.” The largest man trained his gun on Clint. “Drop your weapon and hand over your woman. If you do it quick enough, King Jacob may grant you passage without confiscating your supplies.”

“Yeah- thanks for the offer. Let me just-” He cocked his thumbs back toward the truck and started walking backwards toward it. These were not men he wanted to turn his back on.

Inside, Deanna got ready for whatever was going to happen. There wasn’t a moment that she thought Clint would sell her to them. It was rather surprising to her to realize exactly how much she trusted him.

Clint walked backward, not taking his eyes off of the men. He looked calm, relaxed even but there was a tension that radiated off of him, hiding under the surface. It was the same tension that she saw back when they first met.

“When I jump in the bed, you floor it.” His voice was low, measured.

“Bring us your woman.”

Clint smiled and waved, “Just a moment!”

“Floor it?” Deanna hissed when Clint’s eyes turned back on her. “But there’s a massive roadblock?”

“Fine. Floor it in reverse. Turn around when you can.”

“What if you fall or-”

“Don’t worry about me.”

That was the last thing Clint said before walking backward a few more steps. There was an air of calm around him. He held himself as if men didn’t have powerful guns trained on him. It was like he didn’t care. It was like he saw himself as invincible.

He wasn’t though, and that’s what scared Dee. He was only a man with only a bow and arrow. Could he take these guys? All of them while he was surrounded and out in the open? Sure, he had been an Avenger but still, Deanna had her doubts.

If something happened to him, if he died- she didn’t know what she was going to do. Sure, she could walk and drive now though with pain still and only for short periods of time but where would she go? She didn’t even know if she could get back onto the property without Clint.

“Stop stalling and get your woman out.” A man demanded. Clint’s hand tested on the rim of the truck bed. He put a smile on his face and tightened his grip.

“Yeah, sorry fellas but I spoke to her and she politely declines your invitation. We’ll be getting out of your way now.”

As Clint hauled himself into the bed of the truck, landing on boxes and cans, packs of bottled water and almost Trust as well, Chaos erupted around them. Dee, for her part, gave the truck a rush of gas as soon as Clint’s feet were off the ground. The truck surged back with squealing tires as men began yelling.

Threats were thrown their way. Demands of retribution before that gave way to simple gunfire. Clint wasted no time, crouching low in the bed and nocking an arrow. He seemed unfazed by the fact that he was being shot at, that they were being shot at.

A part of Dee wondered how many times Clint had faced situations similar to this. Sure, they wouldn’t have been when the world had actually ended but still. How many times had Clint been crouched in the bed of a truck, showered in gunfire and praying that the driver didn’t get shot.

“Turn around up there.” Clint yelled, completely unsure of Dee could actually hear him over the roar of the engine and the shower of gunfire.

She did. He was thrown against the side of the truck as she made the maneuver quickly, jerking them around. The moment he had a clean line of sight, Clint nocked an arrow and let it fly an instant later. It hit its target and detonated on impact, killing one man at injuring at least two others.

Dee kept driving, going as fast as she dared until she was sure she couldn’t hear the gunfire in the distance. When the world around them fell silent, she still kept driving, putting mile after mile between her and King Jacob’s crew. Short breaths shuddered through her. Her knuckles were white and she was vaguely aware of the ache in her ankle.

Her stomach turned and suddenly, she slammed the breaks. There was a solid thump as Clint and Trust both where thrown against the cab of the truck and plumbed with canned goods, boxed foods and water bottles. Dee didn’t notice though, as she threw the truck into Park and shoved the door open. She flung herself to the ground, landing on her hands and knees and promptly emptied the contents of her stomach.

Absently, she heard the sound of Clint’s boots on the gravel. He was by her side before she had finished, holding her hair back and rubbing her back. He didn’t say anything for a while.

He waited as she dry heaved a few more times and struggled to get her breathing under control. He waited to see if she would fall into a complete panic attack or pull herself out of the spiral. And he wouldn’t be able to blame her in the slightest if she fell to panic.

“I’m okay.” She groaned the words. Clint handed her an uncapped bottle of water wordlessly and she took it with a mumbled thanks. First she rinsed her mouth a few times, each time spitting the water to the ground. Part of her, that small part that came to life when the world ended, hated letting the ground have the valuable clean water. It was overruled by the part of her that needed the taste out of her mouth.

After warring with himself in silence for a bit, Clint asked, “How’s the ankle?”

“Sore. Probably will ache in a bit for a while.” He helped her to her feet and when her ankle buckled under the pressure of standing, he was there to support her.

“I’ve got you.”

It was a relief to sit in the passenger seat again. Clint pushed Dee’s seat back and propped her foot up on the dash. He promised that if she took it easy on the foot now and rested it, kept it up and when they got home- iced it, she would likely not see much healing undone for more than a day or two. She hoped he was right.

“So...” She drew out the word, letting it hang in the air until Clint looked at her. In front of them, the gate was quickly come into sight. They had been driving for many hours now and the sun was hanging low in the sky. The path they had taken home was full of twists and turns on the off chance that they were somehow being followed.

“So?” Clint finally asked.

“What’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happens to the world- to America if people are just naming themselves King? Carving out territory?” It was a version of something she’d asked before. It was something she tried not to think about too much. But facing it down on the road, it was hard to ignore the question of what was going to become of the political world in the long term.

“Well… more than likely, large countries like us will splinter and fracture into smaller groups. In time as the government regroups and things return to what they were like, or something similar.”

“How?”

“Well, the gaps in the government will likely end up filled by those who control territory now. State lines may end up getting rewritten to accommodate the new territories. Federal laws will probably end up reworked to avoid civil wars in some areas. Depends on how much of a military those claiming power hold and how much the government is able to regain control of our military.”

“Will they call on you guys- the Avengers- to restore order? Or to try and return the governments to what they were?” Deanna whispered.

“Maybe. Probably, at some point.” Clint shrugged. “I don’t think- I don’t know if I would go. I think- I kind of want to just be for a little while. Or a long while.”

“Just be?” The farmhouse was coming into view in the distance now. Being inside the gates was enough to take a weight off her shoulders. There was safety within the gates. Sure, she felt safe with Clint but outside of his property, there was a tension even with him as he tried to watch everywhere at once.

“Not a part of the team. I just… I can’t be a part of them. Not right now. Maybe not ever.” He shrugged, as if he could shrug off the weight of the conversation. “I really don’t care what government is calling the shots as long as I’m left alone.”

“So, someday, when the world rights itself- stay locked away on the farm?”

“Why not?”

~~~~~<3

The turkey was too large to roast in the RV oven, much to Deanna’s dismay. She’d made it a good while without having to cook in the farmhouse but now there was no way around it. Well, in truth, she could have had Clint dismantle the turkey and roast it in pieces but that would ruin the spirit of the event.

And so she set to work, trying hard to ignore the kitchen that belonged to another woman, to ignore the home that belonged to a family that she wasn’t a part of. That family was gone. All that remained of it was the man, doing his best to carry on as the ashes of what had been settled around him.

She told herself there were many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. She was thankful for the butter, Clint had been able to trade for it the day prior. She was thankful for the fresh herbs from their garden and for the garlic from his root cellar. She was thankful for Trust, her ever loyal companion.

“It smells amazing, Babe.” Clint came in, cheeks and nose pink from the cold air. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled his cold nose into her neck making her flinch away. “Got a heater going in the coop for the chickens.”

“How’d that go?” Dee asked, mixing a box of stuffing into a pot of water and butter. His touches had grown more affectionate over the last few days and it still surprised her.

Clint whined, “Tony bit me.”

“Again?” Dee laughed, turning in his arms after she took the pot off the burner. There wasn’t much left to do but wait for the turkey to finish. She indulged herself and allowed her arms to drape around his neck.

“Yes again.” He pouted.

“Why haven’t we eaten Tony yet?”

“Because I want chicks. If we can get a few breeding- we can have eggs, chicken and maybe even trade some.”

“So thought out.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “You think this- whatever- will last long enough for that?”

“Don’t know.” He admitted. “But if it does, I want to be set. And if it doesn’t- the more self sustaining the farm can be, the better in my book. I had always intended it to be a refuge. Laura-” Words trailed off, the name making him doubt himself.

“It’s okay.” Dee whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. It was hard for her, to be in their kitchen with him, talking about the wife he still very much loved. It wasn’t something she would ban Clint from speaking of. It wasn’t something she wouldn’t gladly suffer if it would mean putting his mind at ease.

“She- ugh, She didn’t like it so much. But humored me, since it was to keep her and the kids safe. Lot of good that did though.”

“Hey.” She waited until his eyes were looking down into hers. “You did the best you could. You didn’t fail them. The others did. Not you. You did the best you could.”

“This year,” Clint whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m thankful for you, Dee.”

His lips met hers in a sweet kiss. One that was chaste and full of undefined affection and care. They still hadn’t labeled this thing, that was growing between them and Deanna told herself that it was okay. They didn’t need labels in this new world. Labels didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was her and him, against anything and anyone who challenged them.

“I’m thankful for you too.” She whispered when they pulled apart.


	19. The First Snowfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: References to human trafficking and abuse.

Things were quiet as Thanksgiving came and went. It was only a few days after that the first snowfall hit the farmhouse, blanketing the ground in white fluff. Deanna was sitting across from Clint at the dinette and movement outside was what had caught her eye. Instantly, she tensed as she looked over but rather than some threat, she saw fat white snowflakes slowly falling from the sky.

At least, they looked white as they fell from where she sat. It had been a long time since Deanna had seen snow in person. Far longer than she would like to admit.

She told the kids that she and their father had settled in Southern California to get away from snow and winter weather in general. She had told them that she hated snow, hated driving on it and dealing with shoveling it.

That wasn’t the complete truth. She had loved winter. She loved the sight of snow covered trees and the way the moon sparkled over the pure white ground. There were few things that gave her the same sense of peace as coming in from shoveling the drive and wrapping her hands around a hot mug of cocoa.

It was true that she hated driving on the snow and ice. It was dangerous but what she hated more was the way her then husband would get angry about the cold. Looking back, perhaps that should have been a warning sign.

He would get angry about having to clear it off his car, often only clearing the windshield and letting the wind clear the rest as he drove. Apparently, safety for other drivers be damned. When his hands and feet were cold, he got cranky. But there wasn’t anything she could do about that, she couldn’t change the weather.

The only thing she could do was agree to move somewhere that didn’t get cold in the winter.

Seeing those snowflakes falling brought back a childlike joy and displayed it across her face for Clint to admire. She wasted no time at all in rushing to the door, slipping her shoes on and dashing outside. Clint and Trust were both right behind her.

The dog barked and danced in the yard, jumping up and catching flakes in his mouth. Clint watched as Deanna spun in the snow, leaning against the doorway with his cup of coffee in his hand. It was a sight he would gladly enjoy for as long as he could.

He wasn’t sure if she noticed how the snow wasn’t as white as it should have been, as bright as it should have been. If she did, she didn’t seem to care. It was only the slightest tinging of gray that gave way a hint of what had happened.

The sky and as a result, the rain, had begun to clear in the last few weeks. It was a small blessing, watching the water run clearer as each day passed. Life was moving on. The cycle was continuing. The world kept turning.

With the rains and snows, perhaps the dust would stay settled. He hoped that would be the case. The plants seemed to thrive off of the dust and ashes and they both had spent time telling themselves that was a good thing.

And it was. Objectively, they each knew that. The plants needed all the help they could get. Especially food crops, the likes of which were dying at alarming rates all summer and fall. The worrying information had been passed to Clint from New York, where Nat and the remaining team worked. Their primary concern had shifted from rescue to preventing starvation but there was only so much they could do. People would starve to death this winter.

The Avengers had invited Clint back, urged him to rejoin them. He continued to tell them he needed space. He was needed close to home. Sometimes he would say he was needed elsewhere. And he was, even if Deanna wouldn’t admit it yet.

A snowball crashed into his face and she erupted into a fit of laughter. The snow left that grimy feeling behind as it melted but he ignored it. His face could be washed. That was the joy of being here, on his farm and behind his gates. It made it so that they could ignore the horrors of the world outside for a while.

“You’re Hawkeye, how could you let me catch you off guard like that?!” She yelled, squealing a bit as he took off after her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be Hawkeye anymore.” He said as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her from her feet and spinning her around.

If not for the slight gray tinge to the snow, if not for the odd silence that still hung around them, the scene would have been at home in any of the Lifetime Christmas specials Deanna had so loved to watch.

“If you’re not Hawkeye than who are you?” She whispered as he turned her in his arms. Her hands rested against his chest as snow gathered and melted in their hair, leaving the grime behind.

“Just Clint Barton. Just a man, taking care of the ones he loves.” His voice was soft and she could feel him tense as he admitted. it.

Love. They never defined what they were to each other, what the endgame of their relationship was. They never spoke about sex or love or marriage or becoming a family. But maybe in this new world, they didn’t need to. Maybe it was something that just happened when the time was right and you were not looking.

“Love?” She whispered.

“I mean- I-” He stammered and she smiled up at him. It was the warmth in that smile that helped him relax. She was curious and cautious, that much was plain to see. But she was also relaxed and hadn’t pulled away from him.

“It’s okay.”

“I know- I know Laura hasn’t been gone long. And I do love her still. I think I always will-”

“You promised as much when you said your vows.” Dee offered. “It’s not like things stopped working or that you broke up. She was taken from you and that’s different. It’s okay to keep loving her. It’s okay to always love her. I’m not going to punish you for that. I’m not going to expect that you forget about her.”

“I love Trust.” He smiled and rested a hand on her cheek, cold fingers caressing soft skin. “And I also love you. I’m not sure how it happened, when or even why. I know- I know I don’t know you in so many ways and you don’t know me but…” He shrugged.

“I think…” She bit her lip, looking away from him. He feared that he fucked it up. What they had going was good and he feared that she’d say she was going to leave him, leave his farmhouse and leave the home she’d made there. “I think we know what matters about each other. I think things work differently now. I think I love you too.”

It was too soon. Or at least it should have been. But things seemed to obey new and strange rules now. The very meaning of what it was to love someone seemed to have shifted and changed. It didn’t mean that she wanted a domestic life with him. To see him off to work and to kiss him and welcome him home. It wasn’t a love that made her long to mother his children. It didn’t likewise wasn’t a love that made him wish to see her belly swell with his child.

It was a different kind of love but a love none the less. It meant that neither wished to see harm come to the other. It was a love that said they had each other’s backs. It was a love that said they would do anything to protect the other. It was a love that whispered in their hearts that they would maybe even kill for each other.

But such were dark thoughts for another time. Now wasn’t the time to think of what falling in love in this ash covered world meant. It was the time for smiling and simple pleasures. It was the time for huddling together and staying warm while the dust settled.

Clint’s lips found hers in a soft kiss. It was sweet and she could taste the dark bitter taste of his coffee when his tongue slipped into her mouth. Dirty snow fell around them as they clung to one another, arms winding tight and fingers digging into skin.

Their breath came out in white puffs, warming their noses and cheeks. He held her close and she toyed with the ends of his hair. It was a sweet kiss, for all of it’s passion. There was a hunger simmering below the surface yet neither had made a move to take it farther. In that way, it was like so many of the kisses they had shared in their time together. It hinted at what they could have, what comfort they could give.

“It’s almost Christmas.” Deanna whispered as their lips pulled apart.

“I didn’t get you anything, Dee.” Clint’s soft voice washed over her. She loved that he called her that. Dee was the woman he saw when he looked at her. Dee was stronger than Deanna. She was a fierce woman who could keep going through the end of the world. She wanted to be Dee.

“You don’t have to. I don’t have anything for you, either. Let’s just watch movies and be together?” They’d watched most of the movies between the farmhouse and what they had collected from in town. But that didn’t stop Clint from smiling softly.

“I’d like that.”

~~~~~<3

Clint and Dee had been doing laundry when the AI security system came to life. The voice of a woman rang out through the house. It scared the life out of Dee when it called out for “Agent Barton”, much to Clint’s amusement.

“What is it?” He’d asked, once his laughing was under control. It didn’t feel like anything serious could touch them in their little bubble. The simple act of the system coming to life was enough to pop that bubble and send a ball of molten lead to settle in her belly.

“A group of about fifty individuals are approaching the property. ETA at the gate- 30 minutes.”

“Armed?” There was something to his voice that she’d never heard before. Maybe she was hearing the ghost of Hawkeye in that moment.

“Some, yes.”

“Pull up a video feed. Let’s take a look.”

In the living room, the large TV came to life on it’s own. The house was more automated that Dee had given it credit for. The screen filled with what appeared to be a remote camera feed. People moved up the road that would take them to the gate. They were pulling crates on trailers behind ATVs. Men had rifles over their shoulders.

“Stay here. I’ll address this.”

“No.” Deanna said, surprising herself. She swallowed back her fear. She didn’t want to be Deanna, scared of the world and what was outside the fence. She wanted to be Dee, strong and a partner to Clint. She wanted to pull her weight. She wanted to protect as much as she wanted to be protected. “I want to go with.”

“It could be dangerous.” He didn’t say ‘no’ but his face was set, hard lines etching deep.

“I know. That’s why I want to go. I- I want to be able to help if things go wrong. And I’ve gotten better.”

“You have.”

“I can help.”

He signed and for a moment he looked everywhere but at her. He looked to the ceiling and the floor, the couch and the TV. Finally, he looked at her, long and hard. With a nod, he consented. “Stay back, away from the gate. We’re taking my Truck- the doors are bulletproofed and if they take those rifles off their backs- you get behind the doors.”

“You too.”

“I need you alive. I need you.” Clint said.

“I need you, too.”

~~~~~<3

The sun glittered off the snow. If it wasn’t for the slight gray to the snow cover, it would have looked like any other winter day. There was a heavy tension to the air in the truck. Quivers full of arrows were sitting between the seats, next to bows. Resting on top of the weapons were two hands, clasped together. It had occurred to her as they loaded into the truck that it was the 24th of December. Christmas Eve.

In the past she’d be building gingerbread houses and taking the children to parties. She’d see them off to bed and tell them at least four more times to go back to bed. And finally, when they were settled and well asleep, she would wrap the last minute gifts.

Looking over at Clint, she wondered what he would have been doing today if their world hadn’t ended. Would he be busy being a father and husband? Did he cut down a fresh tree every year? Did they decorate a fake one? These questions and so many more danced on the tip of her tongue and she dared not ask them. Part of her wondered if just as Deanna had passed away, leaving Dee behind- did that man pass too from this world? Is that what he had meant by wanting to leave Hawkeye behind?

They pulled up close to the gate, nose of the truck within a few short feet of the metal. He had once told her that the lower part of the gate was not electrified, only the upper third. It served to protect animals that may wander into it or small creatures passing through it but kept anyone from climbing over. There were no signs warning of this and she wondered if that was legal.

They left the truck running as they opened the doors. Ice and snow crunched under their boots. Her ankle was almost healed and for that, Dee was thankful. The last thing she needed was to fall. Still, there was a lingering stiffness to it.

They stood, partially hidden behind the open doors of the truck and waited. They could see the group approaching. There was a moment of silence as they came to a stop right outside the gate. They sized each other up.

She watched as eyes flicked from Clint to her and lingered. He cleared his throat and they looked again to him.

“What do you want?” he asked, authority powering his voice in a way that she found so painfully attractive.

“Let us in.” The man who seemed to be the leader, demanded. “It’s time you paid tax to King Jacob.”

Their eyes locked eyes at the name. They’d hoped that they wouldn’t hear of him again. In hindsight, that was far too much to ask for. Having a second run in with a group tied to King Jacob made Dee wonder about the state of things on the west coast. Was King Mason expanding his territory this winter as well?

“We owe no tax and have sworn no loyalty to any new King.”

“This land is claimed by King Jacob.”

Clint began to speak over the man. “This land is ours and ours alone.”

Ours. Not his. Ours. The word sent butterflies into a fluttering fit in Dee’s stomach. She squashed them and for now, the remained squashed. Now wasn’t the time.

“As the ruler of this land, King Jacob takes possession of three quarters of your supplies.” Clint snorted indigently. “We’re also gathering… vulnerable citizens to keep safe in the city.”

“And to do so you need them in cages?” Clint nodded his head to the side, toward where large wire kennels were placed on trailers. They were pulled behind ATVs. They had heavy tarps covering most of them.

Deanna hadn’t noticed before Clint drew attention to them but when she realized that there were people, women in the cages. Once she noticed them, it was hard to ignore what was right in front of her eyes.

The women looked like there were naked and too thin. There wasn’t a scrap of cloth inside the crates, so far as she could see. Most of them huddled in the shadows, no doubt using the tarps covering their enclosures to protect themselves from the elements. The only thing they could use to keep warm was the body heat of one another.

“It’s to keep them safe.” The man said. “You never know what could-”

“She doesn’t need you to protect her.” Clint glanced at Dee as he spoke. “I assure you, she is more than capable of taking care of herself and she’s got me to watch her back. That’s all she needs.”

“Ah but she is a woman.” The man pointed out as if that much wasn’t obvious. “Women need protection. It is King Jacob’s orders that the women and children of his lands be gathered in the city.”

“These are not his lands.” Clint challenged.

“They are. And you’ll give your woman and your tax.”

“We’ll do no such thing.” Dee called out.

“Help me.” A woman’s voice called timidly through the cold air. Her arm reached out from between the openings in the woven wire of the cage. “My baby- They left my baby. Help me.”

“Shut up!” A man guarding the cages roared, breaking any sense of decorum the caravan had been aiming for. The man jabbed a long stick into the cage, striking the woman. She fell hard against the grate bottom.

“Please.” She cried, words carried to them on the soft winter’s breeze. “Please, they- they left her. They left her!” The man jabbed her with a stick, again and again until all that they could hear was the woman’s broken sobs.

“Where?” Clint demanded and when he didn’t receive an answer, he demanded a second time, louder. “Where is she?! Where did you leave her?!”

“It doesn’t concern you.” The leader coolly spoke, as if a woman wasn’t being beaten through the crate behind him. “Bring your tax- her included- to Kansas City and present it to King Jacob within a week’s time. Prepare your camp for inspection after. Do not make us come for it.”

They watched as the caravan turned and made their way down the dirt road. Dee’s eyes darted to Clint, taking in his tense form and locked jaw.

“What now?” It was the sound of her voice that brought Clint’s eyes to her.

“We find that baby.”

“How?”

“Try to cover as much ground as we can. Do you- Do you want to come or stay?”

“I want to go.”

“Then let’s go.”


	20. Too Late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Cold weather exposure

There was a tension in the air as they stood, watching the caravan make their way down the road. The roaring of engines and crunching of ice filled the air. There sound of sobbing coming from the crates carried over the snow like a haunting song. Neither dared to speak more than needed for fear of drawing attention to themselves. It didn’t need to be spoken for they both feared that if the caravan saw the gate would be opening they would turn around and fall on them.

The breeze carried strands of Dee’s hair across her face, tickling her nose and cheeks. She tucked the strands back behind her ear and darted her eyes to where Clint stood, stock still and knuckles white where he gripped the truck door.

The sky was gray with heavy clouds above them. It trapped warmth for the world below them and Dee prayed that warmth was enough to keep that baby alive until they could get to her. Fat white snowflakes fell as they watched the tail of the caravan farther down the road now, making slow and steady progress. They took the nightmares of what was their society with them.

While she watched the retreating figures, her mind wondered. If she were to be honest with herself, there was a part of her that didn’t want to go. A small part of her was scared. The jagged shard of fear pierced deep into her, cutting straight to the bone.

It wasn’t that she was afraid to leave and go outside the gates. It was what they may find if they were able to locate the baby that scared her so much.

This wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to save a baby. The memory was even now burned in her mind. The way the little body looked, bloated and leaking fluids onto the too big bed haunted her dreams, played to the soundtrack of screams. Could she survive going through that again?

At least this time the body would be fresh, she told herself but that did nothing to help the fear lodged deep in her stomach. There were many creatures within the forests. She was well aware that dogs ran these woods, hungry and only beginning to learn the ways of their ancestors. Many would leap at the chance for an easy meal.

“Let’s go.” She nodded at Clint’s word and they slipped into the truck. “Friday, gate.”

~~~~~<3

“Keep your eyes on the lookout.” Clint commented, driving slowly.

It was easy enough to follow the tracks the caravan had left through the snow. They’d been driving for over an hour and all they found was dirty tracks, gray and brown from wheels mixing ashy snow, dirt and settled.

“There.” Dee pointed. Part of her, a small part of her doubted if she should have said anything. The bundle was small and still.

Surely it was too late. Surely the baby was already gone. Surely it was better to leave it and go home.

Clint threw the truck in park. The cab jerked and slid a few short inches along the ice before coming to a stop, much like her heart. Although she had her fears, her doubts all left her mind the moment she had the door opened. Her heart took over, much to the dismay of her mind. Snow crunched under her boots as each step came rushed, faster than the last and carried her closer.

Her hands shook- though from cold or fear, she couldn’t say. Trembling fingers reached out for the bundle of rags, brown and dirty. They were still- so still and her breath locked in her chest. As Clint came to her side, there was a whimper from the bundle. It was such a soft sound that it was almost lost on the wind.

“Oh my god.” Dee whispered.

“She’s alive.” Clint sounded as shocked as she was. “Get her out of the snow, I’ll get the heat cranked in the truck.”

The baby was wrapped in many layers of scrap cloth. When Dee uncovered the child’s face, she was cool to the touch. Small fingers and tiny lips had a blue tinge to them. It took everything she had to not shove the child in front of the hot air from the vents. Instead she shed her coat and held the bundled babe to her chest.

“What do we do now?” Dee whispered, feeling relief as the small bundle began to squirm more a little more each passing minute. It began to squawk more as the truck rolled down the snow covered road. “We’ve got a baby- now what?”

“Formula.” Clint answered, turning down side roads.

“And you happen to know where some would be?” The baby in her arms started to coo and whine. “We’ll also need something to diaper her with.”

“She need changing?” Clint glanced over as Dee worked the layers of dirty cloth off the small body. “How old do you think she is anyway?”

“Not yet but she will. God, she’s so skinny.” Dee was able to get a closer look at the almost naked babe with the scraps of cloth away. She was still far too cold but as she warmed, she seemed to be coming to life. “She’s probably a few weeks old?”

“Shit.” Clint grimaced as he looked over at her. “God, are they always so skinny at that age?”

“No- not that I remember. The belly- it’s not…” She shrugged, poking at the little belly. It lacked all the soft plumpness she had remembered from her own children.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve taken care of a baby.” Clint offered.

“How old is your youngest?”

“He is- was three. Just over three years old.” His jaw worked through the tension.

It had taken time but he could finally talk about them, his family, though for only short spells. It still pained him to dwell on them. In some ways, the kids hurt more.

Laura knew he was human but to the kids- he was a hero to them. To them, he could do anything. Failing them hurt more than anything else in the world.

“I’ve got you beat. Frankie was seven. Would be eight now.”

“Between the two of us, we can manage a baby for a bit- right?”

“For how long?” She whispered. “What are we going to do with her, Clint? Do we name her? Do we- fuck, is she ours now? I can’t- I can’t do that Clint. Not right now. Not with how the-”

“Hey, hey.” His strong arm rapped around her bicep and gave a squeeze. He squeezed again and again until she turned her panicked eyes to him. “We’re going to take care of her for now. And we’re going to get her fed and warmed. Get her hydrated and in clean diapers and clothes. We’re going to get her situated.”

“Then what?” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I can’t-”

“I know. I can’t either- not right now. We’re going to get her situated, then I’m going to get her mother.”

“What about King Jacob?”

“I’ll kill him if I have to.”

“I want to go. I want to help. I need to help.”

“Dee- she’s a baby. She can’t be alone.”

“But-”

“Tell you what. Let’s see how she does. If she’s stable than maybe you can take the bow and we’ll figure something out. But I do not want you anywhere near the action. You’re job would be to protect her and watch my back from the distance.”

“Clint-”

“But only if she’s strong enough.” He didn't even want to give her that much. It was an agreement he had no intention of following through on. Dee was his to protect and to allow her into battle, even removed from the action was more risk to her than he would allow. He wouldn't fail to protect another person in his life, not again.

“Okay.” She gave up as Clint pulled into a rural clinic parking lot. It was tucked deep into the forest and easy to miss. The snow around the clinic sparkled and was undisturbed. Windows and doors were intact. It didn’t matter if she liked it or not, the conversation was settled for now.

“Do you think your jackets tight enough to hold her?” Clint asked, cutting the engine.

“Maybe, yeah. With the blankets. I don’t want to drop her.”

“I don’t want to advertise that we’ve got her. You never know who’s watching.”

Dee arranged the babe into the valley between her breasts, inside her shirt. She was still cool to the touch, far cooler than she’d like. Cold fingers flexed and short nails scratched at her skin. While the baby had perked up and started to fuss with all the moving around, she quickly settled with the contact.

Clint threw his quiver over his shoulder and gripped his tactical bow in one hand. Dee tossed her quiver and bow over her shoulder, hoping she wasn't going to have to use it. Knowing that there were others in the general area that were less than friendly put them both on edge.

The font doors were locked, not that it was at all surprising. Dee allowed Clint to lead them as he searched for a way in. She followed close behind, keeping the baby nestled against her chest between them. She did her best to move in a way that no one would have any reason to expect there was a baby in her jacket but it was hard. The tiny body kept wanting to slide down.

There wasn’t any signs of other people but that didn’t do anything to calm their nerves. Clint checked the back door and found it locked as well. There were no lights on inside, no signs of life at all.

“What are you doing?” Dee asked as he knelt in the snow, flipping the cover off a generator.

“Checking to see if the gen is full.”

"Why?"

"If it's full, chances are no one's here."

“And?”

“It is.” He stood, dusting his hands off on his pants. “Doesn’t look like it’s run in a long time.”

“Not since?” She didn’t want to finish what she was going to say.

“I’d say no. Not for a good while even before, maybe. I’m going to try and start it.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Dee asked as he brought it to life.

“Calculated risk. I’m going to pick the lock and we’re locking the door behind us. Get her warmed, check her out, feed her and hopefully find her some clothes.”

Dee watched as he pulled some pins out of his wallet. With sure fingers, he made quick work of unlocking the knob. “What if there’s a deadbolt?”

“Than I say fuck it and break the door down? Or break the lock.” It turned out they didn’t need to worry about it.

“Who’s there?” Came a timid voice from inside. “I’ve got a gun. I- I know how to use it!”

“My name is Clint. Her name is Dee. We mean you no harm.”

“Then why are you trying to break in?”

“We’ve got a baby with us.” Clint gave Dee a look when she gave away their secret. “We thought the clinic was abandoned. We were looking for supplies to help her.”

“Go rob someone else.”

“We can trade.” Clint offered. “We’ve got some cans of food.”

“What do you want?”

“Formula.” Dee offered. “Bottles, if you have any. Some clothes for her? Blankets.”

“Just breast feed it- it’s better that way anyway. Save formula for those who can’t.”

“Bold of you to assume she can.” Clint snapped. “We’re not about wasting supplies.”

“So her supply hasn’t come in?” The woman asked through the door.

“It’s not my baby. She was abandoned by King Jacob’s caravan, separated from her mother.” Dee pressed, not wanting to give Clint a chance to get testy with the woman behind the door. “We’re trying to save her life. She was half frozen when we found her and she’s so small. She’s got no clothes, no diaper and I don’t know when the last time she nursed was. She’s so small. Please- Please help us. We’ll give you food, whatever food we have in the truck- hell you can have it all.”

There was silence. Clint and Dee looked at each other as seconds felt like they stretched on into minutes then hours. Snow fell around them. The exhaust from the generator wafted up to the sky. White puffs of breath dissipated in front of their faces.

It felt so wrong to be just standing there, waiting. They felt naked and exposed, locked out of the clinic. They were beginning to worry that the woman wasn’t going to let them in. They worried that they’d have to break the door down and go to war to get formula for the baby. Then the sound they had been waiting for reached their ears. They almost missed it, the sound of the deadbolt was that soft. There was one more click and the door opened.

The woman inside was small and thin. Clearly, the time since the decimation hadn’t treated her well at all. Her blue eyes were sunken in and ringed with dark circles. Blemishes marred her too pale skin. They looked perhaps worse than they were, the red being in such stark contrast to the rest of her face.

Her wavy blonde hair was a matted mess, held back in a low ponytail. It was clear she had been young, full of life when the decimation happened. The new world seemed to have sucked the life out of her in the last few months.

“Hurry, get in here.” They didn’t wait for a second invitation.

“Why haven’t you been using the generator?” Clint asked as she closed the door behind them and locked it.

“I couldn’t start it.” She admitted. “I’m not sure how the pipes haven’t frozen yet. I guess I just got lucky.”

“You’ve been living here without power?” Dee asked, thankful for the slight warmth in the building. It wasn’t cold inside but it wasn’t warm either.

“I’ve been using the fireplace to cook what food I could stash. I try not to use it during the day. Don’t want to draw attention to myself. I had a run in with King Jacob’s followers a few weeks ago, before the snow started. I was lucky to get away.”

“Why here and not a house or something?” Dee asked as Clint looked around.

“What’s the heat in here?”

“Woodstove and natural gas. I haven’t been running the natural gas- the systems don’t work good without electric.” She directed her attention once again to Dee, “Dr. Ross kept the in house pharmacy stocked. We had to upgrade security a while ago, bullet proof windows and break in resistant doors. It seemed safer and had a functional kitchen until the electric shut off.”

“Clint made quick work of getting the heat going. While the natural gas furnace kicked on, he had to light the pilot light to prevent the clinic from filling with toxic fumes rather than warmth. He’d mentioned that it should have kicked on automatically when power was restored but didn’t. It didn’t surprise him, things tended to malfunction and not be repaired when you’re this far from the town.

Dee carefully toted on a few bags of canned food. The cans lived in the truck, kept so when Clint was exploring, searching for food and supplies he would have something to eat. Under the seats were some bags of pasta.

It wasn’t much at all but it was more than Sasha, the nurse had to eat in a long time. She wouldn’t be able to survive on it alone but Clint and Dee knew she didn’t have to. Now that they knew she was there, they could run her supplies as needed. Any medical professional was a thing to support now when so many had been lost. They had no intention of giving up enough to make their own prospects of survival questionable even in the slightest. Still, they had surplus that would likely see them through the winter and beyond even should they give some away.

The garden had done well enough and the freezer was fully stocked with frozen vegetables. Inside the shed, Clint had rigged up heating shortly before the first frost. At first, he had been simply pulling the trailer greenhouse inside during the nights to keep the plants alive a bit longer.

Then, shortly after rigging the chicken coop for the winter he stopped in a farming town a good 200 miles south of the farmhouse. It was getting harder to find chicken feed but the chickens didn’t seem to mind as larger and larger portions of their diet became produce scraps. It was still a jackpot when he found large bags of feed.

It was one of the most productive supply runs he had in weeks. He’d returned to the farmhouse after having been gone for the better part of a day. Dee had been sick with worry when he rolled up. There was no way she could miss the proud smile on his face that typically was the first sign of a hair brained idea that would make their lives better.

It took a day to install grow lights in the shed. When the plants within the greenhouse began to thrive, giving them a supply of fresh berries, lettuce, celery and tomatoes through the frosty fall he wasted no time in expanding the operation. As he was able to track down large, deep pots and potting soil, Clint slowly filled the shed with plants to grow through the winter. Squash, beans, peas and peppers were lined up in neat rows, just sprouts at best but in time, they would grow.

They could use surplus to trade and since they were locked behind a secure gate, they were safe. In large pots, small twigs seemed to reach for the ceiling and Clint hoped that by spring thaw he would be able to plant the trees outside, giving them apples, oranges and pears.

Now that surplus would hopefully save a baby’s life and buy them the loyalty of a nurse. Canned food was a convince for them, not a necessity. Sasha wasted no time in opening a can of green beans and picking long green sticks out of the can and eating them. She drank the juice and reached for another can.

“Wait- be careful.” Dee rested her hand on Sasha’s too thin arm. “We’ve got more food- at the house. It looks like you’ve done without for a while, if you eat too much too fast, won’t you make yourself sick?”

“You’re right.” Sasha sighed. Warmth was pouring from the vents now, quickly warming the room. It was still cold but at least her fingers no longer ached. “The baby?”

Dee looked to Clint for confirmation before working the zipper of her jacket down. Inside was the little bundle, tucked inside her shirt and sleeping against her chest. She fussed when moved and it didn’t take long at all for her to work herself up into a fit, though Dee wasn’t surprised at all given how hungry she had to be.

“And she’s not yours?” Sasha asked, wiping down a scale with disinfectant before turning and grabbing a stack of thin blankets from under a counter. It was fascinating, watching the woman shift and training begin to take over.


	21. Is there a difference between Dust and Ash?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Umm… talk of baby care and the joys that come with it?

Cling and Dee hovered behind Sasha as she put the babe on the scale. The hard plastic was cold, even with the sterile pad placed between her naked skin and the cold surface. The bite was being driven from the room with each passing moment and it didn’t take long for jackets to be unzipped and discarded.

Sasha looked over every inch of the baby girl, remarking at her too light weight and clear dehydration as she went. It had been a blessing that she had avoided frostbite on her small fingers and toes. At Sasha’s direction, Clint set to work heating water on the wood stove, checking the temperature often with his fingers.

Dee dutifully followed instruction, unpacking clothes and blankets. There were bottles and pacifiers. Most importantly, she unpacked cans of formula. The sight of the first can took a weight off her shoulders.

They had taken to calling the baby Elsa, after the snow queen that had plagued both Clint and Dee’s homes. There was a limit of how many times one could watch Frozen before growing to hate the retold story of the Snow Queen. It wasn’t even close to the original story but it was a popular retelling and had made plenty of money.

Under Sasha’s watchful guidance, they began to slowly introduce formula to Elsa. She didn’t take to the bottle right away but their main worry was only getting something into her. Sasha had been worried about blood sugar levels but Elsa was so young and so dehydrated that she didn’t dare trying to pull blood to test. Stressing her tiny body any more than needed could be that last shove over the edge.

After giving her a few teaspoons of formula spread out over half an hour, she began to figure out the bottle much to the joy of the adults. She still wasn’t feeding with much enthusiasm.

They diligently checked her diaper for any signs of waste though Sasha assured them it would be a while before things started moving. Each time she ate, they wrote down how much they allowed her to take. Sasha had made it clear that even if she wanted to drink the whole bottle, they couldn’t risk letting her. To overwhelm her stomach could make things worse for her tiny body.

She was so young and so underweight that everything was risky. They spent the night in that clinic, though the thought of being away from the safety of the farmhouse gave them both anxiety. Clint had made a run up to the farmhouse and returned with more supplies, surplus vegetables and berries, a hunk of deer meat and Trust.

The dog was very much offended at having been left behind for so long. He made his stance on the matter known by pouting for all over five minutes before realizing there was a tiny human who needed sniffing.

Over the course of three hours of micro feedings, Elsa had consumed almost what Sasha would have liked a typical baby to have in one feeding at her age. But it was better than nothing. It was clear that the feeding had perked Elsa up as well. She fussed and looked around with renewed energy. Little legs and arms waved through the air before she settled into a deep sleep. She seemed so much more relaxed than how she had been sleeping against Dee’s chest.

It was almost four hours before she passed urine. They celebrated with sodas. Five hours after her first feeding and shortly after the second proper feeding, she passed stool. It was terrible and stank but the three adults celebrated anyway.

Clint had made them a deer steak dinner, cooked over the wood stove. He sauteed up potatoes- some of the last from Dee’s initial supplies as well as bell peppers and asparagus- grown from the trailer greenhouse.

Dessert was a simple selection of strawberries dipped in milk chocolate bars they had melted over the stove. The meal brought tears to Sasha’s eyes and they sat quietly as she cried.

“I’ve never eaten deer.” She spoke through a mix of sobs and laughter.

Clint and Dee watched as the nurse fell apart. When the tears stopped, she began to put herself back together. It was late in the night and each understood how raw emotions could be. Things were different now. A hearty meal and something like sodas and chocolate dipped strawberries were a reminder of a time when such things were simply expected.

By morning, little Elsa was acting more like a baby her age. Clint set to work making a pot of coffee while Dee boiled up quick oats and made a bottle of formula. In one of the treatment rooms, Sasha was still asleep.

They were careful to move around the space without making too much noise. Elsa had woken many times through the night, as was expected and the three adults had taken turns with her care. Now, they were careful to let Sasha sleep.

“How long are we going to stay?” Dee whispered as Clint handed her a mug of coffee, doctored with sugar and powdered creamer.

“Probably until noon.” Clint’s eyes flicked back to the hall. Sasha had wanted to take Elsa into the room with her while she slept and it had been hard to convince her otherwise.

“What about her?” The taste of the coffee drew a moan from her. It had been a while since she had any cream in her coffee. “Are we going to bring her back with us?”

Clint’s jaw clenched and she watched as the muscle ticked under the surface. He was watching her closely, gauging her reaction to his silence. He was weighing that against his answer.

He knew, beyond a doubt that no matter what answer he gave, she would defer to his choice. As much as he wanted her to see the land behind the gates and the farmhouse as her home as much as his, he knew she wasn’t there yet. And that was alright. It took time. They had time.

He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not take anyone else inside the gates.”

“Other than Elsa?”

“Other than Elsa.” He agreed, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her lips, a silent thanks for understanding.

“So what do we do about Sasha?” Dee whispered.

“I figure- she’s a nurse, she’s helpful.”

The baby, sleeping tightly swaddled and placed on a changing table pad on the ground fussed and they fell silent. Trust’s nose was sitting right on the edge of the padding as he watched over her. It wasn’t as safe as a crib but it was better than nothing. The clock on the wall ticked as they waited to see if the fussing would become cries or if she would fall back to sleep. Once she stilled, Clint continued.

“I don’t want to give her access beyond the gate but we have some surplus supplies. I could make supply runs to her, bring her wood and food to help her through the winter. If she stays put that long, we can bring her some plants to transplant into her own garden in the spring.”

“Do you think she’ll survive till spring?” Dee watched the steam rising from her mug. “I mean, if she stays here? What if King Jacob’s men find her?”

“It’s a miracle they haven’t already.”

“Clint?” Dee whispered, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his bicep after setting her coffee to the side. “What are we going to do with her?”

“With who? Elsa?” He hummed in thought as he rested his larger hand over hers. “Well, we’re taking her back to the house. I’ve got a crib in the attic I can put together for her to use for now.”

“Then what?” Dee whispered and he could see tears gathering in her eyes. “Clint- I can’t do this. I- I can’t.”

He shushed her and pulled her into his embrace. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“I can’t, I can’t raise her. Clint- I- if you want to, okay I’ll go but I- I can’t.”

“I know honey.” He rocked her in his arms, holding her tightly to him. They moved together, clinging to one another in what was almost a dance though there was no music to be heard. “It’s just for a bit, just until we get her mom.”

“What if we can’t? What if she’s dead? What if they killed her already? What if she gets killed when we go for her? What if-”

“Hush.” Clint spoke over her, voice firm but quite. “If something goes wrong, we’ll leave Elsa with Sasha. I’m already planning on helping support her and she’s a nurse.”

“Okay.” She whispered.

“But it won’t matter. Because I’m sure we’ll save her mom. And everything will be okay.”

“What about after-”

Clint cut her off. “We’ll figure after out. I know it’s hard. Please, try to focus on now. Now is what matters. Now, you’re here with me. We’re alive and we’re together.”

~~~~~<3

Sasha didn’t want to allow them to leave with the baby. Eventually, they were able to iron out a deal where Elsa would be returned for checkups and Sasha gave the baby her first round of immunizations. They were sent off with an armful of formula cans. They would have liked to have taken more with them but Sasha wasn’t having it. It was clear that she was withholding it in part to ensure their return.

There was a relief in crossing back through the gates. Dee had Elsa tucked against her chest, swaddled tightly and tucked into her jacket. Little fingers ran over her skin, offering a silent comfort. It reminded Dee that at least this little one was okay. For now.

While Clint pulled the crib up from the basement and assembled it in the living room, Dee busied herself warming water to mix up a bottle. Little Elsa wasn’t fussing but it had been a few hours since she had eaten.

It had been a long time since Dee had care for an infant but she remembered how important regular feedings were, especially when so young and so malnourished. It was easier to be in the house while distracted by the little body in her arms.

The crib was disassembled and stored in large trash bags, keeping to free from dust. That didn’t stop stop Clint from taking a bucket with warm soapy water and wiping it down before assembling it. Dee sat on the couch, Elsa cradled in her arm with a bottle in hand as he worked.

The crib was ornate and clearly hand carved. The way Clint worked with it, the ease and comfort, she wondered if it was his handiwork. She hadn’t seen him do any carving in their time together but he’d mentioned much of the work he’d done around the house and his penchant for doing it himself was clear as day. He was a man of many talents, skills and crafts.

The more she spent with him, the more it amazed her. The media painted him as so average and the least super of the super team. He was marksman with a keen eye and battle hardened and that was all anyone ever said about him.

But he was so much more than that. He was a dedicated father. He was a man with many skills and talents that made him uniquely able to survive. No one knew he was well versed in gardening or keeping chickens. He was a skilled hunter of food game as well as human targets. He could build and repair. He could maybe even carve the ornate scrolls at the top of the crib posts.

“The mattress was in a vacuum bag.” Clint’s voice drew her out of her thoughts. Elsa had almost finished the bottle. While she hadn’t fussed, she was a hungry little thing. “It’s even kept a seal, surprisingly enough.”

“Mine never did.” Dee joked as she moved the baby to her shoulder, softly patting and rubbing her back while Clint laughed.

“Most of mine don’t either. Looked like some of the blankets and baby clothes are still sealed too. I’ll bring them up.”

“Would that be okay?” Dee asked, watching him closely. “They’re your kid’s stuff- we’ve got some blankets. I’d understand if you didn’t want to- you don’t have to-”

“No, no- It’s okay.” For a moment, he was silent and in thought. “I think.” He swallowed hard before starting again. “I think I need to let go. I’m not strong enough to hold onto their stuff, like you. Not when it’s not practical.”

“I’m not strong.” Dee glanced to where the folded blanket sat with the stuffed fox, neatly on the coffee table. It never occurred to her to let little Elsa use that blanket. If she was honest with herself, if she dared to give it voice, she knew she wouldn’t let anyone else use that blanket. The cost didn’t matter. But she wanted to. She wanted to get to a place where she could let go.

“You are.” Clint answered as if it was plain as day. The discussion was closed and he fetched the mattress and bed sheet.

Trust took up residence under the crib, sleeping with his chin resting on paws. Clint’s hand rested on her lower back as she reached down and placed the baby on the firm mattress. Elsa was tightly swaddled and only fussed for a moment before settling back to sleep.

“I’m going to run back to the basement, see what I can find. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some baby stuff still.”

She watched him go before collapsing onto the couch. Trust lifted his head and snorted at her before going back to sleep. Since waking that morning, she’d been hesitant to put Elsa down. Clint couldn’t hold her while driving or assembling the crib. Only now that she allowed herself to relax for a moment did she feel how her arms, shoulders and back ached.

“I got some-” Clint started loudly before dropping his voice. “Stuff...”

“What?” She mumbled, sitting up. She hadn’t intended to or been aware that she had fallen asleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep.” She stretched and this time it was her back’s turn to pop. “What are we going to do? The crib won’t fit in the RV.”

Clint sighed, fully aware. “It won’t. Elsa will have to stay in the house.”

“She can’t stay in the house alone.” Dee cut him off only to have him talk over her.

“I can stay in the house with her. You don’t have to- I won’t try to make you stay in the house. I know you don’t like being in here. I can’t blame you for that, it’s hard for me even, but I can.

“You can’t take care of her all by yourself. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I’ll manage. I’ve done worse and it’s just for a bit and-”

“I’m not sleeping in the RV Clint. I’m not leaving you to do it all alone.”

“Are you sure? You can, you can change your mind, you know? If it gets to be too much. I’m just- I understand.”

While he rambled, running his hand through his disheveled hair, Dee watched him. His black tee hugged his chest and highlighted his strong arms each time his bicep flexed to move. She watched as he turned his back to her, rambling words spilling from him as he tried to set her at ease.

But that was all she needed. It was clear as day that he would do anything to keep her safe, body, mind and heart. That was all she needed from him. That was all she wanted from him.

Slipping off the couch, she made her way to him. As she passed by the crib, she allowed her fingers to run over the smooth railing, worn down and discolored with time. Warm fingers rested on his firm back. Under her touch, he tensed up for a moment. It quickly passed and a sigh slipped out of him as he relaxed.

She ran her hands around his side, wrapping around his waist. As a hand rested on his chest, his fingers wrapped around her hands and held them tightly to him. For a moment, he held her like that, simply being together.

“Where will we sleep tonight?” She whispered.

“There’s a guest room just off the hall down here.” He pulled her hand from his chest and placed a soft kiss on her palm. “I’m sure we’ll hear her if she wakes but I found the last set of baby monitors, just in case. I’ve got batteries around here somewhere.”

“You don’t have to sleep in the guest room.” She whispered words she did not want to say, “It’s your house and if you want to sleep in your own bed, you can.”

“I want to sleep by you. Where ever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“That’s where I want you to be too.” She admitted.

The night seemed to fly by and before long, Clint was leading the way into the room. The door cracked open and a fire burned in the wood stove. She could hear the crackling of it from the room.

Trust had found someone to be more loyal to than Dee. The dog didn’t much want to leave little Elsa’s side. She worried some that the dog wasn’t going to cope well with the baby leaving their side, when the time came. And the time would come.

“You must have been an amazing mother.” Clint’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He’d returned with a change of clothes for them both from the RV.

“How good could I have been for them to be gone?” She asked but regretted it instantly when pain flashed across his face. He’d lost his children as well. At least they didn’t suffer, not like hers had.

“We both did. And we couldn’t have done anything to stop it.” He spoke to her but the words were for himself as much as her.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true, that she didn’t have to have lost her kids. They could have survived. They didn’t have to know the pain, the way fire licked and ate at flesh. She didn’t have to put them on the bus that morning.

But when she opened her mouth to say it, to admit it, the words were lodged in the back of her throat.

Clint wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest as her silent words gave way to quiet tears. Rather than try again, she rested her head on his shoulder and clung to him.

It’s not like it really mattered, what had happened. She had Clint now and he would hold her through the hurt. He loved her, in that weird way that love was in this world. And she loved him, in the same weird way.

Did it really matter, if her children and turned to dust or ash? It’s not like it could be undone anyway.


	22. Radar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Sexual content and themes. 
> 
> Note** There is a possibility I will be skipping posting next week due to personal stresses.

There was some fussing in the living room. Clint stifled a chuckle as best he could. Dee went to pull away but he held her closer, waiting to see if the fussing baby would settle back into sleep or if she would work herself up. A louder squawk sounded from the living room instead.

“I’ll go, you get a shower in.” He smiled down at her and for a moment, she wondered if this is what it could be like, if they kept baby Elsa and turned their back on the world. But that wasn’t right and the pains of being in this house still stabbed at her.

When she agreed, Clint dipped his head and placed a soft kiss to her lips. She didn’t want to shower inside the farmhouse. She didn’t want to do much of anything inside it. It didn’t matter what she did, she always felt like a guest inside another woman’s home.

After her shower, the sound of soft humming drew her down the hall and toward the living room. Clint was humming to the little bundle wrapped in a blanket. His bare back and arms looked so warm and soft in the glow from the woodstove. How could he look so soft when she knew he was nothing but firm muscle?

“You’re a magnificent dad.” She spoke loud enough for him to hear her but not disturb the sleeping baby when their eyes met.

“Babies are great.” He responded. “Sure, they cry. They are tiny factories of poop and vomit but the future is inside of them. The babies will take this shitty thing we’ve let happen, shitty world we’ve made for them, and they’ll make something great out of it.”

“See, magnificent.” She smiled at him.

“But I’m not a dad, not anymore.” His shoulders slumped as he set the bundle down in the crib.

“You’re still every bit a dad as I am a mother. Just because they’re gone doesn’t change that.” As she spoke, she went to his side. Looking down at the bundle, sleeping safe and warm, she rested her hand on his back. It was easier sometimes, to not look at him.

“That would mean I’m still a husband.” The thought stabbed at her heart as he said it.

“You are, in many ways.” She admitted. “And to Laura, you will always be. But she’s not here. We’re parents with no one to parent. You’re a husband with no wife. But does it matter, really? They won’t come back and that won’t change. So we move on.”

“What if I can’t?”

“But you are.” She wrapped her arms around him as he turned to face her. “You’re moving on a little each day. Just like I am. But that part of who we were will always be there.”

“Will it always hurt?” He felt dumb for asking her that. He was the one that had faced battles and waded through the resulting death. He’d lost comrades and allies over the years. She was just her, a normal woman. But somehow, she seemed like she had all the wisdom of the world, locked in her heart.

“Yes.” It hurt her to say it. “But every year it will hurt less and less.”

“How do you know?” He nuzzled into her, clinging to her.

“Because, I still grieved the loss of my marriage, of what could have been. I still miss my parents, though they died a long time ago. Time doesn’t erase the wounds but it heals, leaving behind a scar.”

Her fingers traced over a scar that marred his chest. He'd told her that it sometimes ached when the weather turned bad, though he rarely complained.

“We just have to learn to live with the pain from the scars.”

“I’m used to living with pain.” Silence ticked on before she decided it was best to let these thoughts go for the night. It was better that they move on.

“She’s asleep. We should get some sleep too.”

Clint gave her that boyish grin and he melted her heart. He had that amazing ability to go from sullen and serious to cheerful and full of life at a moment’s notice. It worried her, kept her on her toes at times but she loved him for it. He was always trying to walk on the positive side of the street. Sure, sometimes he stopped and sat in the shadows for a short rest, he always would move on.

He swept her up and she squealed as she found herself tossed over his shoulder. He shushed her and walked with a bounce in his step, making her flop a bit. She tired and failed to ignore the hand holding her steady, gripping her around her thigh, holding tightly right below where her legs joined. He kicked the door closed behind him and tossed her on the bed.

At some point, he had slipped into the room and lit scented candles, giving the room a warm glow. He must have done it while she was in the shower, before tending to Elsa.

She bounced and laughed. The mattress was soft, considering Clint had said it was a guest room bed. She’d never had any nice beds in any of her guestrooms. But, she guessed Clint had enough money that having a good guestroom was something he could afford. The house didn’t scream money but it was there in the details. It was the little things like the comfortable bed or the high end washing machine that gave hint to what he had.

“Come here and get your Christmas present.” She said, propping herself up on her elbows. It was, by far, the cheesiest line she had ever said in her life. But Clint laughed regardless as he crawled over the bed.

“What’s my present?” He asked as he loomed over her.

Leaning down, he nuzzled the crook of her neck. There was a shift in him tonight. Or was it a shift in them both? A weight was off his shoulders or maybe he was using that weight to hold down the ghosts in his memories. She had been joking, mostly, but he seemed to grab a hold of the offer like it was a lifeline. Part of her felt guilty for it, but she found herself needing the reassurance in his touches.

“Is this my present?” he asked, planting a warm kiss on the skin. “Or this?” He asked, kissing higher on her neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

“It could be. What do you have for me?” She joked but feared she had said something wrong when he pulled back, sitting with his weight on his hip and supporting himself with one hand. His other rested on her hip.

“Nothing at all.” He admitted, yet there was a soft smile on his face. “Except, everything I have.” His hand moved from her hip to rest on her cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin of her lips. It all felt like it was moving too fast yet somehow still perfect. “Everything I am, in all my broken glory.”

“Just what I wanted for Christmas.” She ran her palm up his arm and down his chest.

Their lips found each other and what had at first started as a sweet kiss quickly turned heated. Lips moved against one another as hands explored the bodies of the other. Clint clung to her as he sifted, putting more of himself above her.

Fingers took in the firm planes of his muscular back and chest. Under her touch, muscle jumped and bunched. The feeling was almost as intoxicating as the way he kissed her. Eventually, he must have needed air because his lips pulled from hers. She couldn’t dwell on it though, his lips found her neck. He worked his way down, only stopping when he found the place that made her squirm.

“Clint.” She whined, arching into his touch. His hand slipped under the small of her back and he held her. Warmth radiated down from his bare chest. It was a warmth that seeped down into the very core of her, feeding a fire she hadn’t felt in many years.

His hand explored her legs, taking in the length of them. Any stubble that may have grown since she last shaved seemed not to phase him at all. It was a ridiculous thing to even think of when they world has ended, yet she still tried to keep up her shaving. His hand left a trail of fire behind.

She’d felt uncomfortable most of the time she was in this house but in this moment, she didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. She could have been anywhere, any room in any home or out in the open. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. All she cared about was the fire in her stomach, fanned by his breath on her skin and the feeling of his fingertips.

When his fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, she couldn’t even think about how she didn’t care where she was anymore. As his hand explored her stomach and ribs, hers continued to take in every bit of his skin she could reach.

Blunt nails scratched at his scalp and back. Her shirt inched higher and higher as he shifted to kiss along her stomach. After having two kids, she had been insecure about the slight swell and the pale stripes that shimmered against her skin at places. Like everything else, Clint seemed to accept her body with eager glee. She guessed that the body of a mother wasn’t something he was a stranger to, his wife had birthed children as well.

The thought stabbed at her for a moment, a bitter reminder of the home they were in. But that stab was soothed almost instantly by his mouth, lips placing an opened mouth kiss over a clothed nipple in a searing kiss. A man like him, he could have had anyone. Even now, he could have been in New York and in bed with any runway model that survived but he was here. He was where he felt like he was needed.

Now there was a place he was needed even more. Rushing hands slipped between them and she set to work undoing his pants. He was almost where she needed him. The only way the moment could be better was if he was where she needed him in that very second. He moaned when her fingers wrapped around his shaft.

“I need you,” She panted, pumping him slowly as she used her legs to work his pants further down his hips. “inside me.”

He sounded like he choked at those words, a strangled groan left him. “There is no where else I’d rather be.”

He worked her bottoms down, not leaving either of them a moment to overthink. He was rather thick and heavy in her hand as she guided him to her entrance. The feeling of his head pressing against her opening was better than she had expected.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Please.” She begged. “I need you. I need this.”

He inched himself inside her at a painfully slow pace. A breath was pushed from her lungs as he was finally seated inside her. Had it always felt so good to have a man inside her? Her toys never left her feeling so full. It was the greatest feeling she had experienced in a very long time. Still, it left her wanting more.

“I swear, normally I take my time before getting inside.” He teased as he pulled her legs higher, opening her wider and somehow slipping deeper.

The bed creaked as he pulled back before once again slowly slipping deep again. Each time he withdrew, he did so a little faster. And every thrust forward was faster than the last. Every move he made left her wanting more.

Pushing herself up on her elbow, she wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him. He pulled back, using the arm behind her back to pull her up with him. There wasn’t a moment when his strength didn’t amaze her.

He sat back, supporting their combined weight with her in his lap, riding him. He inched them forward, moving a little with each thrust until he could reach out and grab the headboard. That allowed him to be more stable as he held her up by the large hand planted in the center of her back.

Each thrust up into her it hard in all the ways she needed and all she could do was hold onto him. Her legs were wrapped around him tightly as her fingers ran through his hair. His hair had gotten longer, since they’d met and she loved to run her fingers through it.

It took a bit for her feet to find the mattress but once she did, she pushed forward. Clint went willingly enough, falling onto his back. He had thought she looked magical below him and glorious held up in his arms. Somehow, the sight of her perched atop him, knees on either side of his hips was even better.

Candle light danced warmly over her skin, shimmering against stretchmarks and scars. He reached out and took her soft hips in his hands. She was soft in all the best places. When his hands cupped her breasts, he found them as heavy and full as he had always thought.

She rocked her hips and indulged in the way he groaned. When she rose up over him only to sink slowly down his shaft, he outright moaned. It was the best thing she had heard in a very long time. It was a sound she wanted to make him make again and again even if it meant putting off getting herself off a bit longer.

The way the moved together was magical. They each used their body to push their partner closer to their peaks. The bed softly creaked as they moved atop it and soft moans filled the room. The wooden wicks of some of the candles crackled in the air. They were each close now, so close.

At first they didn’t hear it, the sound was lost in the sea of sensations. But than the soft fussing gave way to a shrill cry. The cry garbled and ended with a sneeze as they both froze.

He twitched inside her as each second of silence ticked on. She rolled her hips and he gasped below her. The coil was still there, wrapped tight around her insides but was fading. A warm hand inched closer to her core. A shrill cry pieced the air once again and was quickly followed by a second and third cry.

“Oh god dammit.” Dee whined.

“Give her a minute, she might settle again?” Clint offered only to have the wails of a baby continue to fill the air.

“She’s not.” Deanna laughed, slipping off of him and rolling onto her side. “Babies have a radar- they know when sex is happening.”

“You think?” Clint tried not to laugh while reaching off the edge of the bed for his pants. Dee grabbed his shirt from earlier in the day off the floor from where it sat with his jeans.

“For sure. Babies don’t want want competition too early. All the attention. Greedy little shits.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Shall we see to the little snow princess?”

“Isn’t Elsa the queen?” Clint gave her a look as he opened the door.

“Is she?” Dee asked, slipping out of the room and leading the way to the living room. “I have seen that movie like a million times and I somehow managed to avoid memorizing it.”

“Let it go!” Clint sang, reaching down into the crib. As he scooped up the little bundle, he sang the line again.

“Stop.” Dee complained, a wide smile on her face and a laugh giving way to her voice. “I’ll get a bottle going. Just stop singing the cursed song before it gets stuck in my head.”

As Clint sang the cursed song, she made her way into the kitchen and set to work on that bottle. His voice was soft and carried well. It surprised her that he had such a good singing voice considering the gravel and warmth in his speaking voice. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

As she made it back into the living room, she noticed something odd. On the mantle, above the wood stove insert fireplace was a line of photos, smiling children’s faces looking out at her. Clint was in many of the photos but their mother was missing. Deanna smiled, she knew what it was like to be the one always behind the camera, always taking the pictures.

One of those photos was sitting face down. In the pit of her stomach, she knew what that photo would be. It was larger than the rest and the silvered frame was far more elegant than the others, to the point of being somewhat out of place. She knew better but she couldn’t stop her hand as it reached out.

Trembling fingers lifted the frame, revealing what she knew she’d see. Clint looked so much younger, back then. How long had they been married? That boyish grin she had seen so many times before had a different light to it, a pure joy. He wore a tuxedo, something she couldn’t imagine him ever wearing again.

And Laura? God, she was beautiful. A vision of a bride with her hair pulled back and waves trailing behind her. She had dark brown hair and Deanna imagined she was the type of women who didn’t see herself as others did. She looked like a picture perfect wife and mother.


	23. Somehow Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None, really. 
> 
> Note** We will now be updating biweekly for the next few chapters or so. I've got some bullshit going on with my Daughter's school not wanting to provide her supports for her ADHD (as she is entitled to by law) and I've got a lot of phone calls and meetings on the horizon plus my own anxiety acting up.

“I- I couldn’t keep looking at it.” Clint’s voice came out of nowhere.

It scared her out of her skin and she almost dropped the bottle as she flinched back away from the fireplace, as if it had stung her. The baby had settled in his arms, cooing and fussing some still. The sound of wood crackling in the stove combined with her turbulent thoughts combined to drown out his approach.

She handed him the bottle. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I-”

“It’s okay.” He didn’t look at her or the photo. He kept his eyes on baby Elsa as he spoke, slipping the plastic nipple between her small lips. She was the safe space. Little Elsa wouldn’t be angry with him for his attachments in the past nor was she a ghost from what he had before. “I figured you didn’t want to see that picture while I’m trying to tell you to feel comfortable here.”

“Oh.” She said, looking down at baby Elsa as she drank from the bottle.

She was far more pink now, than she was when they found her or even the night before. Food and warmth had both been good for her. She was one resilient baby, that was for sure.

She’d been at a place, not even an hour ago where she had felt completely at ease in this rustic farmhouse. For a moment, she had forgotten about the ghosts of the world that were all around them. There was that painfully short moment where she had lived completely in the instant, out from under the ghost of what had been.

“That’s a lie.” Clint admitted, drawing her eyes from the baby’s sweet face and up to his stormy blue eyes. “At least partially. I- I couldn’t look at her, anymore. I-” He signed.

Little Elsa had finished her small bottle and settled into sleep once again. Clint’s eyes flicked up to Deanna’s for a moment. He looked fragile, like he was made of glass. If she threw one harsh word, would he shatter at her feet? Would she ever be able to put those pieces back together again, if she were to speak carelessly?

Turning, he took the baby back to the crib. He took his time, swaddling her with care as Deanna stood, looking at his back. There was a heavy silence around them and she regretted touching that cursed picture.

Merry Christmas to her, she had to go and kick up the dust.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure that Clint had heard her at first, so she repeated herself. “I’m sorry, I’ll- I can go. I can sleep in the RV.”

“What?” He turned to her and there were cracks in his face. She had wanted so badly to avoid hurting him and yet it looked like she had managed to do just that. “No, please.”

That caught her off guard. His hands and arms reached out to her, fingers flexing before he had managed to make it to her side. It looked like he was scared to touch her, his hands hovered just off her arms for a moment before he finally took her in his arms. She went willingly, needing the comfort he was offering as badly as he needed the comfort of having her in his arms. They fed off each other’s unspoken needs and in the back of her mind, she wondered if there was anything she wouldn’t be willing to do for him. Did he need her as much as she needed him?

“Clint?” Don’t cry, she told herself over and over again.

“Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I’ll- I can move the picture upstairs or into the basement. Just- please don’t go. I need you.”

Wasn’t that a thought? He needed her. She didn’t want to leave him. Though she offered to go, she didn’t want to sleep somewhere he wasn’t. Hell, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to, in reality. There was a comfort, a safety and security to having Clint by her side at night. She didn’t want to leave him, even just to sleep in the RV without him for a night.

“I’m- I.” She tumbled over her words and instead, settled on letting her actions speak for her. That was safer, easier and so much clearer. She wrapped her arms around him, fingertips digging into the strong muscles of his back. It felt like she was holding onto him for dear life. “I’m not going anywhere, Clint.”

“If you want to- I don’t want you to think you have to stay. I need you but I don’t want you to feel trapped or stuck with me. I just- I’ll be okay, I-” He was mumbling into her hair.

Firelight flickered in the wood stove, sending their embraced shadows dancing around the room. She held onto him tighter still, trying as hard as she could to will the cracked parts of him back together. How many of those cracks did she cause and how many had already been there?

“I need you too.” She whispered, as if it was a cursed secret. “So much more than you know. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you for as long as you want me.”

“Let’s go to bed. Sleep while we can before she wakes back up.” Clint leaned back, taking in the look of her face as she looked up at him.

They were standing in the living room he had shared with his wife. Their children had opened their Christmas gifts right about where they stood, year after year. If he closed his eyes, he could picture the tree- fresh, though Laura always pushed him to get a fake tree. She would tell him that it was easier, faster and leave him more time her and the family. The fresh tree was a tradition he held on to though.

Now? Now he wished he had given in years ago and gotten that stupid fake tree. He’d give anything to have those few hours he spent searching for a tree every year back. It was too late to have more time with Laura but it wasn’t too late to claim every moment he could with Dee.

It surprised her when he leaned down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. She had so badly thought she had somehow broken what they had. The feeling of his arms around her, his lips against hers was enough to soothe the hurt in her heart.

It would take time to undo the small cracks in their hearts that had opened up that night. They had all the time in the world however, and were content with that thought. Dee picked up the stuffed fox and blanket to carry to the bedroom but as she crossed by the crib, she hesitated. Clint was standing by her side, checking on the baby who was sleeping soundly.

“You can borrow these, only for tonight.” Dee whispered as she carefully draped the blanket over the small legs. It was getting hard to breath around the lump in her throat as she tucked the stuffed fox into the corner.

“You sure?” Clint whispered as she stepped away.

With a nod, she laced her fingers in his. “It’s just for now. It’s Christmas. They- They’d want her to have them for the night. That little fox looked over Aurora when she was a baby and as she grew.”

“You’re amazing.” Clint whispered as he wiped a tear off her cheek and maybe one of those cracks had started to close up again.

~~~~~<3

It was beyond strange to wake up somewhere that wasn’t her RV. Clint’s voice brought her out of what had been a deep sleep. He sat on the bed with a mug in each of his hands as she blinked her vision clear. Morning sun filtered through the curtains and fell on him in soft waves. Strong muscles stood out, highlighted by the sun and she decided once again, that she loved the way he looked with the sunlight on his back and chest.

Dee had to swallow twice as she sat up. Looking around, she felt panic well and claw at her mind even as she tried to beat it back. The sound of the mugs clicking as they were set on the end table was lost to her.

“Hey, hey.” Clint’s strong hands rubbed up and down her arms, soothing her until he had her attention. When he managed to lock eyes with her, he smiled. “It’s okay. They’re in the crib with Elsa.”

“They are?” She asked and for a moment, Clint wondered if she had lost track of reality.

“The fox and blanket.” He answered, trying to softly remind her that the kids were gone and the world had ended in case she was still trapped in some lovely dream. Guilt stabbed at him. If she was having that sort of dream, part of him felt obligated to let her live in it for as long as she could.

“Right.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He leaned down and captured her lips with his in a kiss. It was something he’d never done before. Sure, they’d shared more than a few kisses but this was different. It was the beginning of the day and felt like he needed that kiss before he could start the day. Or maybe it was her that needed the kiss, that unknown and undefinable thing that was different.

“Don’t be sorry.” He whispered when their lips parted. “I fed and changed Elsa while I made coffee. Potatoes are on the stove, cooking.”

“Look at you, Mr. Man.” She teased, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Different, something was different but better. Whatever it was that changed, she liked it. Maybe those little parts that cracked apart the night before had needed to be cracked.

“I’ve got more Mr. Man for you.” Clint grinned, pushing her back on the bed and climbing over her. Large hands roamed her sides as they kissed. He rolled his hips against her and she could feel how he was growing stiff in the sweatpants he wore, slung low on his hips. She wanted nothing more than to explore the feeling of him against her more.

“Don’t you have breakfast cooking?” It was hard for her to keep her head on straight. Between the night before and what he was doing now, this was so much more than the simple flirting and lingering touches.

“I want you for breakfast.” He mumbled, trailing his lips down her neck.

“Food.” She panted. “Clint. Food, on the stove. Is it turned on?”

“I am. I bet you are too.” A large hand cupped her breast and she arched into the touch.

“Clint. Stove. Food. Don’t burn it.”

With a groan he sat up. It took everything she had to only allow herself a small glance at the tent in his sweatpants. “Fine.” He whined. “You’re right.”

With all the maturity of a ten year old, Clint pulled himself from the bed. His lips pouted but he couldn’t hide the way the corners of his lips tried to pull up into a smile. When she laughed, it only encouraged his show. With his shoulders hunched down and back slumped as he took up his coffee. Dee rolled her eyes and sat up, taking a generous drink from her own mug.

“Go, before you burn it.” She said, shooing him with her hand.

“Fine.” He whined. “Such a slave driver.” The sound of his foot stomping echoed softly though the room and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re such a ham.” Her back popped as she stood up. The hem of his shirt tickled her thighs, a reminder of what what had perhaps been the thing to change everything. And she liked the change.

“I’m your ham.” He shot back as he walked out of the room.

He wasn’t there to see the way she froze at his words. He called himself hers. He gave her a claim over him. It wasn’t something they had talked about. Hell, the closest they had come was the agreement that she could leave whenever she wanted. But he just said he belonged to her. It was something he was saying more and more now and yet, something felt different this time. Everything felt different now.

Long legs carried her through the room. Bare feet padded down the hallway. Glancing in the crib as she walked by, she found little Elsa awake and exploring the taste of her fingers. In the kitchen, Clint’s back was to her.

Sun highlighted his strong back and reflected off what few golden highlights remained. With summer sun gone, his hair had turned darker. She wondered how quickly the sun would again bleach the strands in the spring. In her heart, she knew that she would still be here, come spring.

When her fingers traced over his skin, he startled. The great marksman of the Avengers team and she managed to sneak up on him. He trusted her enough that he let his guard down with her, that he relaxed with her enough for her to sneak up on him. That fact alone delighted her. She only hoped she was worth it, to him.

She wrapped her arms around his middle. Resting her head against his back, she enjoyed the way she could feel his chest expand with each breath. Some grease splattered up from the pan, stinging her arm. She ignored it in favor of holding him a while longer.

“I’m yours too, you know.” She whispered into his back.

She couldn’t see it, but he smiled at her words. His heart fluttered at hearing them. It was something he hadn’t thought he needed to hear. Sure, he’d told her he loved her and she’d said it back. Somehow, each different way they found of saying it made it mean all the more.

“You’re getting splatter burns.” He rubbed his hand over the small red dots, as if to rub the slight burn away.

“So are you.” She pointed out.

Whatever he was going to say, he decided against it when the soft cooing turned into fussing and grunts. “Your turn, babe.”

Now it was her turn for dramatics. Whining, she made her way into the living room. Elsa looked far too innocent and pleased with herself from her spot in the crib. Deanna remembered a lot about when her children were babies but it was that sweet smile that was seared in her memory. That was the smile of a true demon, one that had created a mess that belonged in hell. As the smell wafted up at her, she remembered how glad she had been when Frankie toilet trained and the sea of diapers in her life had ended.

Until now.

“That was a nasty one.” Dee whined as she tossed the disposable diaper into the nearly empty trashcan, making a mental note to take it out later. They didn’t fill the cans nearly fast enough and a pail full of soiled diapers would quickly smell, regardless of how soiled they were.

“Guess that means she’s getting enough to eat now.” Clint chuckled as he placed a sweet kiss on her lips.

He had a plate in each hand. Potatoes were something reserved for a bit of a treat. They’d begun to run low on fresh potatoes but Clint had a few plants started in the converted greenhouse. He’d said it would be a few months, if they grew well, until they would be ready. In the spring, he planned to plant a large crop of them outside.

“Clint?” She asked as he cleared the now empty plates from the table. He hummed an answer. “What are we going to do?”

He sighed and sat heavily again at the table. “We plan, first. I can’t-”

“We.” There was no way in hell she was going to let him go into battle alone.”

“Dee, it’s going to be dangerous. I can’t put you in danger. If anything were to happen to you-”

“And if something were to happen to you? How would I ever know? How would I go on?”

“I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about you.” Looking away, he ran his hand through his hair. “Someone has to take care of Elsa, anyway.”

“What if- what if I’m not close enough to get hurt? What if we stay at a distance?”

“They have guns, Dee.” Clint sighed. “But you’re not going to let me win this one, are you? What about Elsa?”

“If I’m off shooting from a distance, it will be fine. Right?” It was clear as day to Clint that she had never see anything even resembling a battle.

“Fine.” He couldn’t believe he was going to consider agreeing to this. “First thing we do is find somewhere safe and high up and with a clear line of sight and get you and Elsa inside. You’ll have guns and your bow. If they start firing at you, you get the fuck away from the window and exterior walls.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be on the ground, cutting the head off the snake.”

“What if something happens to you?” She didn’t want to think of it. “I mean, you’re going to be in more danger than me.”

“If something happens to me, you get the fuck out of there. You get back here and you stay as long as you need to, as you want to. You protect yourself.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He took her hand in his, lacing his fingers between hers. “If something happens to me, it would take too long for you to get to me and you’d probably die trying. You can handle ranged- to a degree- but you’re in no way ready to face close quarters combat.”

“And you are?” She challenged. “I mean, you’re a marksman. Why don’t you stay in the distance, we can pick them off all day until there are no more left.”

“I am.” He snapped. “I am far more capable than anyone gives me credit for.”


	24. Going up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None.   
Remember, this is now updating biweekly while I deal with writer's block caused by family shit.

Chapter 24

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.

“Let’s go.”

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.

Assuming they both survived.

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.

King Jacob needed to die.


	25. Into the City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting, I intended to post it Friday but well, life happened. We're surprise moving at the start of next month so things may get a little crazy but I intend to keep at least biweekly posts. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Violence

Chapter 25: Into the City

Clint watched the world around them. Cold air bit at his cheeks and ears, made colder still by the breeze. Sun warmed the top of his head. He was alone on the roof with only the wind and the slight ringing in his ear to break the silence. Absently. he rubbed at his ear as if he could somehow rub away the sound that had been with in for much of his life. There were only so many blows to the ear and explosions one could experience without some sort of lasting damage. All things considered, he was lucky. It could have been worse.

In the cold, he sat watching and waiting. He’d left Dee on the top floor, inside and safe from the cold air to care for baby Elsa. It wasn’t a place for her or a baby, not when they didn’t need to be. The desire to protect her, to isolate Dee from any harm burned inside him. He'd rather her never be on this roof but she wanted to help. While he didn't like it, having eyes in the sky and ranged attacks would provide a useful distraction.

She didn't need to be out there right at that moment, at least. For now, she could be warmer and safer than he was. Later, he could show her what she needed to see. Right now, it was better that she rested and cared for the little one. Anxiety ate at him though.

He did the best he could to cut the top floor off from the rest of the building but there was only so much he could do. He did his best while maintaining his own path to get to the roof and back. He wouldn’t hear it if someone where to fight through his makeshift barricades and Dee was sleeping.

He was proud of her for how well she handled the amount of walking they had done but now she needed to rest. They’d covered miles of ground today and would likely cover miles again tonight, assuming they didn’t die. She’d done little complaining and had earned her rest. It was a lot that she was putting her body through for someone who wasn’t a trained agent.

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Slipping it out, he looked at the name. 'Natasha' flashed on the screen next to a picture of a spider. In the top corner of the screen, next to the date he’d been trying to ignore was a small satellite symbol. They’d not gotten cell phone service returned yet but Stark's satellite phone services still worked.

“Hey.” He hadn’t wanted to answer but he had been ignoring her for longer stretches of time. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t her fault.

Except, it kind of was.

She was there. She was at the battle. She didn’t call him. She didn’t tell him. She went to space. She was there when he died. She saw his blood. She didn’t bring him. She failed to save them. She failed to bring them back. She failed. She failed.

“How’s it going?”

Clint cleared his voice, pushing the turbulent thoughts away as he always did. “It’s going.”

“I wanted to check on you.” She started, sounding more like she was talking to a wounded animal than a friend, comrade and the man who had at one point saved her life. “I know today’s-”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t mean to snap. “Sorry- Just a bit cold. I’m getting to be a grouchy old man.”

“Are you sure? I can take a few days, fly out… I worry about you, being alone in the house and today’s-”

“It would have been 15 years.” Clint offered, knowing damn well that she was calling to make sure he hadn’t gone off the rails.

“That’s a long time.” Nat offered.

“Not nearly as long as I had planned on being married.” There was nothing he could do to keep the ice from his voice.

“I know.” He could hear the regret in her voice. She didn’t mean to pick at the emotional scab. “I just worry about you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”

“I’m not.” His attention was divided between the phone call and the men walking down below.

“You’re never worried.” Natasha teased, or at least tried. “But I mean it, you don’t have to suffer alone. I’m here for-”

“I’m not.” He snapped.

Below, men pushed women out in the open. They had pots in their hands. One tripped and landed in a heap on the ground. What looked to be a soup or stew spilled onto the ground. Another woman tripped over the first and dropped the loaf of bread she had been carrying.

“You’re not? Who’s with you?” He hadn’t told Nat a whole lot of what he had been up to.

“It’s not important.”

Men appeared to be yelling at the women. There was a stark difference between the way the two groups of people were dressed. The men had heavy coats, gloves and hats to protect against the bitter cold. The women, by contrast were lucky to have even a light jacket over their shirts. Many had rips in their clothes.

Regardless of if they were men or women, all were dirty. Their hair was unwashed. Men kicked at the woman who had been carrying the soup. Mouths contorted in anger. The woman who had carried the bread was pulled to her feet only to be thrown back onto the ground. Clint watched as her head connected with the ground and her body went limp. The first woman was still being beaten by the others.

“What have you been up to?” Clint asked. “How’s things on your end?”

“We’ve got order in the East coast established again.”

“That’s good.” Clint sounded as if he wasn’t sitting on a roof watching a woman get beaten to death. “Was there much resistance?”

“Not much.” The squeak of wheels pierced his ear. He could close his eyes and picture the exact chair she was sitting in. It’d always had the wheel that would squeal if it wasn’t oiled often enough.

Tony would often get annoyed and take care of it himself though she was plenty able to ignore it. Tony was back and had made great strides in the physical aspects of his recovery. At least, that's what Nat had told him before. It seemed that he still wasn’t hanging around the compound enough to notice that Nat’s chair was crying for some oil. Or maybe he just didn’t care anymore.

“How’s Tony?” Clint hadn’t intended to ask. What he wanted to know was more details about the state of things on the east coast.

“Pulling away.” Nat’s breath washed over the phone in a sigh. Clint could imagine her leaning back in her chair, turning and looking at the wall behind her. “He came back and he just- for a while he was angry and shut down. And that made sense, you know? But then he started getting better. Pepper being pregnant seemed to help a lot. He’d get in the suit and even if he was going it alone, he’d go clean things up. Set up power for the hospitals and fire stations. It took a while to realize he was working himself into the ground.

I don’t think we wanted to see it. I was doing what I could to locate the mayor or find the president or whatever. I could do that because Tony was doing so good making sure people in the city were not killing each other over Cheetos.

I assumed everything was okay, that he was getting better. It was easier to assume that, I guess than question if he was ready. We didn’t really have time to question that.

Once New York State was re-established, he slowed down, started pulling away from the service. He bought a house outside the city and has been decking it out. Sometimes we don’t see him at the tower for weeks at a time.”

“Pepper- she’s what, five months along now?”

“More like six.”

“Nat.” Clint shifted, almost falling on his ass. Below a feast was being staged by what he grew to understand were slave women under the watchful eye of guards. The stage where the bodies hung was not even twenty feet from where the chairs were being placed around a series of long folding tables. “He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t doing any of that to help others. He was doing it to help himself. He needed the area safe for Pepper. Now that it is, he’s got no reason to keep helping.”

“It’s Tony. He’s all about helping everyone else. That’s who he is.”

“That’s who he was.” Clint stressed. “And what did that get him? A fractured team? A world that wouldn’t listen to him? Half the goddamn universe turned to dust? A failed battle? Being selfless didn’t do shit except cause him pain, so why keep doing it?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Checking out and taking care of yourself? Letting the world burn? Is that why you won’t come back?”

“This isn’t about me. And for the record: In the last week we’ve saved a baby from freezing to death, provided food to a clinic and we’re getting ready to take down a man calling himself King and abusing people.”

“We?” Again, she pushed.

“It doesn’t matter.” He dismissed her with those few words. “You didn’t hit a lot of push from those who claimed territory?”

Natasha sighed. “We did.”

“How’d you handle it? Don’t want to be undermining you.”

Seconds ticked by as he waited for Natasha to answer. She was thinking about her words, choosing them carefully. It was something she only did when she wasn’t sure how the one she was speaking to would react. It wasn’t a good sign at all.

“The president offered them a way to keep the territory in a round about way. Many governors and mayors are just gone. Ones that we think survived abandoned their positions and so many others we can’t account for at all.”

“So what? You just give the position to who ever is in the area?” Clint was outraged though there was a part of him that tried to speak up, to remind himself that he’d probably do the same in her situation. The evil that you know is better than the one you don't in the short term. Once things were established again, they could go back and take out the trash and replace them.

The world wasn’t black and white and in the absence of leaders, they had to make do with what they had. There would likely be less death if they brought current leaders into the fold rather than challenging them and taking the power by force. It’s not like they had a way to be sure that whoever they did give the position to after wouldn’t try to take the land for themselves. He tried to reason with himself but all he could see was the bodies hanging from the beams down below. The United States government and the Avengers were giving power to what could be people like King Jacob.

“We can challenge them later.”

“Right. Don’t spill blood yourself while you restore order. Wait until it’s convenient than take care of it if they abuse the power.”

“You know it’s more complicated than that.”

“I’ve got to go, Nat.”

“Clint-” He disconnected the call and pressed the power button on the phone before she had a chance to finish what she had been trying to tell him.

The screen blinked once and went dark though Clint’s eyes were trained on the scene below. While he’d been arguing with Natasha, a woman had committed the grave crime of spilling some wine on the man Clint assumed to be King Jacob. The punishment for such a crime was a swift execution, Her blood stained the dirty snow in front of the table as the men ate.

~~~~~<3

Cold bit at exposed skin. The temperature outside fell quickly as the sun set. Deanna sat alone on the roof with only the sleeping baby strapped to her back to keep her company. The weight of Elsa pressed tightly to her back under the heavy coat was a comfort even as the child slept.

Trust had followed Clint down the endless stairs, much to his dismay. It was a comfort to her at least, to know he at least had Trust to watch his back. Sure, the dog wouldn’t survive a gunshot but they both remembered well how the dog had loyally fought to protect her.

As far as she was concerned, the plan was beyond stupid. Clint had left her high up on the roof with a tactical bow so unlike what she usually used for practice. He’d told her that it would allow her to pull an arrow back and loose it with much more force than she normally would be capable of handling.

He also left her with his arrows. They’d sat inside as the sun had set while he explained what each one would do. He drilled her again and again, making sure she knew which ones would explode on contact and which were simply sharp enough to split a hair on. He showed her how to use the scope and every single time she expressed doubts, he promised that she could do it.

In truth, as he worked his way trough the dark city streets, admitted to himself that he wasn’t at all sure that she would be able to hit any intended target from that distance. But what he did know is that it would be hard for them to hit her where she was. That was what mattered most to him. Clint counted himself lucky to have convinced Trust to wait on the bottom floor of the building. Hopefully, if anyone tried to go after her the dog would be able to make enough noise to alert her.

As he moved through the shadows, Deanna did her best to keep her eyes on him. She watched as he made his way through the streets. There wasn’t much she could do when he would have to move behind buildings though. Each time she lost sight of him, her stomach would tie itself up in knots.

~~~~~<3

Clint moved through shadows every chance he could. His hood was up, hiding his face within the darkness. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was easy to miss once the sun was down. Snow crunched under his boots as he swiftly made his way through alley ways and side streets.

Anyone who caught sight of him and dared to make a threatening move was quickly cut down. He left men’s bodies in pools of their own blood, hidden only by the shadows. Turning a corner, he came face to face with a woman in rags. Her eyes went wide and she gasped a breath.

His hand shot out, grabbing her and pulling her into the darkness. Another hand clamped down over her mouth as he pushed her against the wall without a single thought to how the cold brick would feel through her thin shirt.

“Do. Not. Scream.” He waited until she nodded before removing his hand.

“What do you want with me?” She pleaded in a hoarse whisper. “Just let me go. Please, don’t hurt me. Please, I'll be good. Please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me reason to. There was a woman brought in not long ago- she had a baby recently. Do you know of her?”

“Rachel.”

“Is she still alive?” There was no denying that there was a very real possibility that she was dead.

“Y-yeah. The King- The King liked her. He keeps her for himself.”

“Are any of the women here free to go? Or are you all kept women?”

“Some are, more kept than not. But the freedom they have is an illusion, I think. Why are you? Am- Am I in trouble? I don’t know you.”

“I’m not from around here.”

“I- I shouldn’t be talking to you. I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to talk to outsiders.” She pulled away from him but he held her in place firmly. “You- Why don’t you have a guard with you? I should leave. I- they’ll beat me if they catch me with an outsider.”

“When I’m done here, there won’t be anyone left to beat you. Where is Jacob right now?” She hesitated. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t cut the head off the snake quickly.”

“He’d be in his house, with his women.”

“For the rest of the night?” Clint asked. He’d caught sight of fire pits being set up in the town square park. He’d wholly expected that the night wasn’t over for the people under the care of King Jacob.

“No.”

“Then what next? I need to know.”

“When he’s done they come out. He passes his best women around to the men he’s close to. They- they- they-”

“You don’t have to say it. I’ve dealt with his kind before.”

“Any women who fight back are killed. Sometimes they kill so many that they have to go outside of the city to find more. They call it hunting. They bring them back in cages.”

“Are all of his men at the town square during this?”

“Most. There’s a watch at the roads out of town. Always, as far as I know. But not as many now. Most people around are already dead or been brought in.”

“Are there any good men here?”

“Some.” She chewed on her lips. “The ones that go to the town square are bad. Most of the good ones challenged things and were shot. Or hung. Now they just gave up.”

“If I let you live, will you do something for me?”

“I don’t want to die.” The woman whimpered. “I’ve been trying so hard, so hard to stay alive. Please. Please don’t kill me. Please.”

“Do not tell anyone I am here. Do you understand?” She nodded, tears gathering on her wide eyes. “Carefully, tell every person you trust to hunker down until morning.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to cut the head off the sneak and drive out the rats.”

“How?”

“Not your problem. Go.”

As she scurried away, Clint jogged across the alley and slipped between two dumpsters. He waited in silence for a sign that the woman had betrayed him. Minutes passed as kept as still as possible but no one else came into the alley.

After fifteen minutes came and went, he moved on. He took his time working his way through store fronts and alleys. There was no rush. He moved as if he had all the time in the world, as if he had the rest of his life to spend making his way behind the platform in the town square.

In truth, if it went sideways he would be spending the rest of his life on this walk. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend the last hours of his life and so, he decided that he wouldn’t. He didn’t care what he had to do, but he’d take down the rats in the city on his own and live to tell the world about it. He’d do whatever he had to do to go back home with Dee and keep the battle from her. He’d kill the whole city if he had to.


	26. Killing a King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biweekly updates should resume
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Gun and blade violence, blood, corpses.

Clint took a deep breath and released it, blowing the air out in front of him in a slow, controlled stream. Every breath he took was controlled to avoid giving away his position behind the platform. There was a small lip around the edge of the platform where those who built it couldn’t be bothered to saw down the planks to fit right.

Frankly, the craftsmanship was terrible. While the space under was completely closed off, the boards had large gaps. The work wasn’t up to his standards and the thing likely wouldn't last the winter.

Through the gaps, he watched as the gruff men. They were armed with large guns and milling about, some with little clear direction beyond to look intimidating. He watched their shadows as they climbed onto the platform. Their weight bent boards that had lacked the proper support.

Most of them looked uncomfortable carrying such large guns. While some were likely hunters in their prior life, the guns they carried were military grade. While some carefully handled the weapons, others confidently carried them with their fingers on the trigger. It was an accident in the making.

“Today we are blessed!” A woman’s voice called out. She was the only woman on the platform and seemed to be one of the only free women in the city. “We are supported by and cared for by King Jacob. It is in his wisdom and his kindness that the people are safe, that they can eat and live.”

Clint snorted at the comment. Safe? They ones in charge were doing an amazing job at keeping themselves safe, of that he was sure. In the process, they were abusing those they claimed to care for. He could step up and give them a warning, show them that they couldn’t continue that way.

“In order to remain safe and to continue to have enough for all of our people, there must be order.” The woman continued, her strong voice calling out over the park. People were gathered around. To the left, he could see where what appeared to be guards hands clutching a boy who had to be no less than 14 years old. “Don’t you agree?” Voices called out in agreement. Most were subdued and tense. Something bad was coming and it was clear half the people there were not wanting to be a part of it.

“Supplies are limited. Food is limited. Everything is controlled. Everyone gets their fair share.” There was a mummer through the group. “We can’t have people taking more than their fair share.”

“You take more than your fair share!” The woman held off to the side yelled, struggling to keep her mouth uncovered. “You rape. You pillage. You take and take and leave the things you don’t like for those who agree to live by your rules. Crumbs are left for those of us who are your slaves!”

Clint realized that she was Elsa’s mother. This was not good. Very not good.

“Shut her up!” The woman yelled and Clint prayed she would stop yelling before she got herself killed. “What do we do with those who steal from us? Who steal from you? Who take more than their fair share?”

More uncomfortable murmuring spread through the crowd. It was clear as day to him that a good portion of the people wanted little to do with what was going to happen. That didn’t change the fact that they were complacent. There was enough of them to take control. It was only a matter of organizing to do so.

These people had been given a chance to start over. They had been given the chance to change their lives. They could have been the hero in their stories. They could have made something better of themselves. They could have done something. They could have supported each other.

Instead, those who were free to roam in this city made the choice to sit back. It was easier to accept living in a hell of abuse if they were not the victims. They were just like everyone who looked the other way when he would show up at school with bruises as a boy. They were experts in looking the other way. They were just as guilty as the rest.

“For the crime of stealing from our glorious King Jacob and His People the sentence is death by hanging. His corpse will feed the crows. For the crime of defying our glorious King Jacob and hiding a criminal, the sentence is death by hanging. Her corpse will likewise feed the crows.” The woman spoke over the crowd as the men serving as guards dragged Elsa’s mother onto the stage. The boy fought to free himself from the guards who pulled him toward the stage.

Clint worked his way backward after checking both directions for anyone who could spot him. Each crouched step was slow and as controlled as his breathing. All he needed was a few feet, enough to give him a line of sight. Taking the gun from his hip, he took aim.

One deep breath in and as he began to let it out, his finger tightened around the trigger. Guns were never something he was fond of. They were too loud for his taste but they did the job. The first guard fell like a sack of meat and Clint took aim at the other. Another bullet went through a skull.

Elsa’s mother was left standing, screaming on the platform with a dead man on either side of her. Clint wasted no time at all in throwing himself up on the platform. His arm went around the woman and he rather harshly yanked her behind him. It would only serve to protect her from one side but it was better than nothing.

“Who the hell are you?” The man yelled, voice full of gravel and deep with age. He’d stormed out of the small shed set up to the right of the platform. Atop his head was a crude crown made of what looked to be gold crafting wire wrapped around what could have been a couple children’s play crowns.

Clint Barton was a man who had seen royalty. He had held royal crowns in his hands as he worked to assassinate heads of state. Being the one to do the dirty work, either for any given price or later for the government had exposed him to the weight and feel of a proper royal crown. The thing perched atop the man’s head could be knocked off with the slightest breeze.

“Just a friendly wanderer with something against human trafficking.” Clint answered, adjusting his grip on the gun in his hand.

To the side, the boy struggled with them guards still holding him. He kicked and bit but it did no good. They were much bigger than him. Clint watched from the corner of his eye, keeping most of his attention on the so called King.

The boy's legs tangled and he went down in a heap. The guard raised his gun. The fear in the child's eyes was clear, even from a distance.

Clint didn't think twice. It was quick, calculated. In a blink of an eye, Clint had his own gun up and his finger twitched. The bullet exploded the guard's head before he had a chance to do the same to the boy.

“He’s that guy from the fenced property- the one who refused to pay you tax.” another man yelled. He was thin and small. It honestly looked as if the gun he was carrying weighed more than him. Clint remembered seeing him at the caravan, timidly saying nothing as sticks were jabbed into the cage at the women.

“Kill him.” The King ordered. “No one withholds tax!”

It sounded beyond cheesy to Clint. Straight out of some low budget mobster movie. Did the self proclaimed King know how ridiculous he sounded?

“I mean, I did? So clearly someone did.” Sassing him wasn’t the best idea, he knew that. He was already outnumbered and had someone to protect but god dammit he couldn’t help it.

Guns raised and pointed at him. Well, at his general direction. A good number of the guards appeared to have poor aim. Seconds passed and bullets hit the wall around him. He was becoming more and more sure that most of these people had never actually held these types of weapons before. Those who have were finding it hard to shoot at a stranger in unusual situation, it seemed.

That worked in his favor as he picked the three with the best aim off. The less he had to worry about getting shot, the better. An arrow moving through the air caught his eye and pulled the corners of his lips up. It hit the edge of the park, landing under the edge of a bench. It wasn’t where he would have liked it but it was there. She was there, watching his back. She was there.

After a moment, it exploded. Rocks and dirt were thrown into the air. It didn’t do anything to actually kill or even harm anyone but that didn’t matter. It provided him a distraction.

All eyes turned toward the blast. The sound of shouting covered up the sound of the blade of his sword as he pulled it from the sheath. Now was time to move. Now was his chance.

“Stay with me.” He ordered to the woman behind him. Not too close. Kindergarten rules- if you can’t see me that’s a problem.”

When she nodded, he took off. There was something freeing about wielding a blade. He had always felt at one with his bow but once that arrow left his string, it left his control. With blades, it was always all him. There was no difference between weapon and man as they cut through bodies and snuffed out lives together.

Another arrow impaled the ground. Her aim was getting better and Clint smiled. This time, when the explosive charge went off, it took the life of one of the guards and injured two others. The next arrow didn’t have such lucky aim. The point sank into the wood beam at the top of the platform and Clint became once again very aware of the bodies swaying by ropes above him.

“Come on.”

Clint wrapped his hand around his charge’s arm and pushed her in front of him. He kept pushing her until they reached the edge of the platform where he rather unceremoniously picked her up and chucked her off the edge. As he launched himself of the edge of the platform, he sank the tip of his blade into the chest of a heavily armed man to the right. The beam exploded in a rain of splinters as he hit the ground.

As the body fell from his blade, so did those hanging behind him. Turning on his heel, he grabbed his charge by her arm and pulled her close. She struggled and screamed for a moment before realizing it was him. Her breaths where tight and shallow as panic ate at her.

He pointed with his blade after using it to cut a woman down who rushed them with a knife pointed and ready to attack. “Take this. Run there. Get behind that dumpster. Stay until I come for you.”

There was no time to wait to see if she understood or was even able to do as he asked. He shoved her in the direction of the dumpster. He gave her the chance, found her a clearing but now it was up to her. She had to make it there herself. He couldn’t do everything for her.

He could at least serve as a distraction. She had plenty of time to make it there. What better distraction was there than going after their leader.

“Hey, Mr. King?” Clint called. “My daughter had a better crown than you when she was six.”

Okay, so the insult could use some work. But it got their attention. In the end, that’s all he needed. The more eyes on him, the less eyes were on her. Plus, the crown really was fucking ridiculous.

Every muscle in him was tense and ready to attack. He sent a silent ‘thank you’ to Dee, who rained down a steady stream of exploding arrows. Their placement was hardly ideal but considering the distance and her level of skill, it was more than he had dared ask for.

It was enough to keep the group disjointed and looking for another attacker. A misfired charge caught the table on fire, adding smoke to the cloud of dirt and debris. It gave him something close to a cover and he took advantage of it. He took down anyone who dared to raise their gun to him on his way to the King.

Each if his movements were precise. Each sweep of his blade was quick and cut cleanly through flesh and bone. Warm blood splattered onto his face and soaked into the arms of his coat. It quickly cooled but he paid it no mind.

Keep cutting. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t let a threat get away. Anyone who got away would be a threat later. Each threat had to be eliminated for fear that they would regroup and follow him. Only those he was sure wouldn’t stab them in the back could be allowed to live.

Death was everywhere, all around him. Ash, dirt and smoke clogged the air as another arrow exploded the front of a building.

He was death and he was closing in on the last target. The so called King was running through an alley way with Clint hot on his heels. The crown crushed so easily under Clint’s boot that he hardly realized he had stepped on it.

Low quality. Fake. Cheap. Worthless. Just like the King who’s head it had sat upon.

It didn’t take long for Clint to overtake the man, even with the substantial head start. There was no ceremony in his death. This man deserved no ceremony. The blade whipped around the front of the man and cut into the exposed throat of the once self crowned King. Hands flew up to his neck as red poured down his front. He'd had his neck cut before he had even been aware Clint was within reach.

Clint stepped away and watched for a moment as the King leaned against a wall, then turned his back and walked away. Behind him, there was a soft scraping sound followed by a thud. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that it was the sound of a lifeless body sliding down a rough wall and landing on the ground.

For what he had done, this so called King and his followers had gotten only a fraction of what they deserved.

~~~~~<3

The woman was right where he told her to wait. She was shaking, cowering close to the wall. The cold of the metal surely was seeping into her but she still held herself close to it. That was the only thing she had been doing right, the gun was sitting in her lap.

If he had been someone else, someone meaning her harm she wouldn’t have had a chance to grab the gun. She was lucky everything went according to what little plan he had. There wasn’t much he could have done if even one person had branched off and found her.

“It’s me.” Clint knelt in front of her, being sure to give her space.

“Is it over?” She asked, wide eyes wet with tears.

“For the most part. It’s time to give me back the gun.” The idea of traveling with an armed woman he didn’t know wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to do. Dee was different. He trusted her. He trusted Dee with his life.

“But- But- What if-” She stammered out, stumbling over words and thoughts.

“You don’t need it anymore. I’m here.”

“But- But-”

“Do you remember me?” Clint softly asked. His arm was getting cold now or maybe with the adrenaline fading from his system he was simply beginning to notice it. He made a mental note to wear something waterproof next time he exterminated rats.

“You- you’re- The man from the fence?” He was hoping that she would remember him as ‘Hawkeye’ but that worked. At least she remembered him. It’s not like he was all that well known. He didn’t go to most of the press conferences or anything, there were simply not a lot of pictures of him out there, all things considered. Not like Tony or Steve at least.

“I am-”

“Did you find her? Did you look for her? Did- did you give her a good burial? Can- Can I see where she is?” The woman curled in on herself as he watched her spiral. At least she knew who he was.

“What’s your name?” he reached out and took the gun from her lap. She made no move to stop him. “What can I call you?”

“R-Rachel- I-

“Nice to meet you Rachel, I’m Clint and we need to get moving.”

“Did- did you find her? My baby. They left her to die.” Clint pulled the woman to her feet. She wasn’t dressed for the weather. If she could even make it back to the building was something Clint wasn’t sure about.

“We did. She’s okay. Let’s get moving.”

People were peeking out of buildings. He didn’t see a single weapon in hand or aimed at him but that didn’t mean that they were safe at all. The sooner they were out of the open, the better. The sooner he was with Dee again, the better.

“She’s okay?” Fear and hope mixed on her face.

“She’s okay. She’s waiting for you but we’ve got to get going.”

The woman he had stopped before the battle started slowly approached. Her head was down and shoulders slumped as she shuffled forward.

“Yes?” He asked, standing. He didn’t want to keep fighting but if there were more to fight, he would take them down.

“They’re gone.” She whispered. “The ones you didn’t kill- they’re running away. Are- Are we free?”

“Yeah. Free.”

“What do we do now?” The woman asked. Clint really wanted her to go away.

“What ever you want.” He said instead. She wasn’t his responsibility. Now that the fighting was done, he wanted to get back to Dee and make sure she was alright.

“Where do we go?” The woman asked.

“Where ever you want, if you want to go anywhere at all.” Clint swallowed the urge to snap at her.

“What do we do now?” She asked again and he couldn’t stop the sigh that ripped out of his chest.

“What ever the fuck you want. I’m going and taking her to her baby. Then I’m going home. What you do now that you’re free is your problem. I’m going home with my- with Dee.” He took a deep breath and tried to calm his frustration. He was cold, his jacket was damp and the sleeve was soaked. “Listen- Say here and try and survive the winter if you want. The government is working on restoring order but it will be a while. You can wait for order to reach us here or make your way east. There is more order to the east. What you decide to do is your problem.”

He pulled Rachel along as he started walking, not bothering to wait for the other woman to continue her questioning. Thankfully, Rachel was silent while they walked. He wished he could call Dee, contact her and make sure she was alright.


	27. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: None!

Snow crunched under their feet as Clint and Rachel made their way through the city streets. It was quicker, not having to hide in the shadows but that did little to relax him. He knew his back would ache by morning from how tensed the muscles were but, he couldn't force himself to relax them. 

There were too many people about. There were too many strangers milling around. There were too many people that could stab him in his back to moment he walked by. He needed to get away. He needed to be behind the gates.

He could hear Rachel panting as he drove them forward. She stumbled and tripped over her own feet but he didn’t slow for her. She wasn’t in any condition to be moving at the pace he was dragging her along at but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to get back to Dee. 

Every time she lagged behind, he would drag her along. Words and promises of her baby waiting kept her feet moving though she still complained. The building loomed, growing larger the closer they got. It was so close now. The closer he got, the harder his heart beat in his chest. That voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that he’d get to the top and find her gone or worse, dead.

“Wait!” A man yelled. Clint stopped, body tense and hand resting on the butt of the gun. Part of him wanted to kill the man for stopping him but he knew it wasn’t a crime worthy of death. 

“What?” The word came out sounding like a bark. He needed to get back. He needed to make sure she was okay. He needed to make sure she hadn’t blown herself up with a trick arrow. Logic said the top of the building looked to be fine but Clint was in no state to listen to such things. 

“If you hadn’t come, we would still be trapped by him.”

“You were not trapped.” Clint tried to school the annoyance in his voice. “You simply were not willing to risk standing up. There’s a difference between weakness and cowardice.” 

He knew he was being harsh. He knew it was uncalled for. He know he didn’t need to say it. He knew that his opinion wouldn’t change the past. He couldn’t bring himself to care though. What mattered most to him at the moment was putting one foot in front of the other and closing the distance between him and Deanna. 

“You’re an Avenger, right?” The man asked, refusing to let Clint go. For a fleeting moment, Clint wondered if that was a crime punishable by death. The thought was quickly pushed away, it was extreme for simply keeping him away from his lady longer. 

“There are no Avengers anymore.” 

“But you are one?” 

“Was.” Clint’s voice held more ice to it than the ground under his feet. “Half the team either retired after the decimation, turned to dust or killed in the battle. There is no more Avenger’s team.”

“But you were.” 

“What of it?” His voice climbed and his hands itched as he snapped at the man. “What do you want from me?”

“Don’t leave us.” The man finally spit out. “Help us. Keep us safe. Teach us how to keep ourselves safe.” The requests or maybe they were demands flowed out of the man in a steady stream. 

“No.” Was all Clint had to say. He wanted to say so much more but swallowed the words. This man didn’t know the reality of who Clint Barton was. He only knew the ideal that was polished and promoted at one time by those who wanted to use them to make their money. 

“But you have to.” The man wouldn’t stop pushing. The more he pushed Clint, the closer he pushed himself toward death’s door. Yet he thought he was safe as could be at the moment. Should he have been safe?

“I owe you nothing. What I am going to do is take Rachel to her baby. I’ll take them out of this city if they want and I will go home. What you do is your business. Survive or don’t, it isn’t my problem.”

“So you’re going to leave us here?” The man sounded offended and Clint scoffed at him. 

“It’s a city. It’s not like we’re leaving you in the middle of a jungle.”

“There are dead people here. I- We can’t stay here. We don’t know-.” 

“There are dead people everywhere.” Clint’s voice echoed off the stone walls and down the icy roads as he stated the simple, painful truth. The killing of the self proclaimed King Jacob did nothing to change the fact that death surrounded them all. Death was a fact of this new world. Death wasn’t going to leave them anytime soon. “There are bodies everywhere. They are sitting in homes and in cars and on streets. They are rotting where they lay. It’s about time that Americans learn to live with death.” 

Years of resentment seemed to be boiling over. Though he was American just as they, he’d traveled the world. He knew how spoiled they were. They didn’t know how to tend their dead. They didn’t know how to bury a body or even why it was important to dispose of them. They didn’t know anything about death. They didn’t know anything and it wasn’t his job to teach them. 

Clint turned his back and walked away. The muscle in his jaw twitched and jumped. Let sickness take those who refused to learn. 

“Wait!” The woman called out, jogging up to him. Her arms were weighed down with bags. “Wait!”

“What?!” His patience was officially gone. The only thing he cared about as the sun began to color the sky shades of orange was getting back to Deanna. If they were lucky, they would make it back to the truck. More than likely though, they would have to camp out for the night and return by morning. 

It wasn’t a possibility he had properly planned for. Sure, he could keep the two of them alive for the night. Trust’s body warmth would help was well, if the dog turned up. Rachel was an additional complication he hand't packed for. It hadn’t been possible to carry enough supplies to plan for the possibility of having to camp out with her as well. Too many possibilities and too many risks and a large part of it was beyond his control. 

“I- You saved us. You gave us our freedom back. You gave us a chance. There’s not much we can offer you. There isn’t much we can do to repay you for our lives.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“But I need to repay you.” The woman insisted, continuing before he could make his impatience known further. “I don’t know how far you’re going or what you’re plans are. And I won’t ask, I don’t expect you’d tell anyone anyway. But take this with you.”

“What is it?” Clint resigned himself to talking a bit longer. 

“A coat, some boots, scarves. I couldn’t find any food but I- We wanted to make sure you kept warm enough until you get wherever you’re going.”

With a nod of thanks, Clint turned. He didn’t look back to check if Rachel was following behind. The complaining was enough to let him know that she was following. 

They walked for another thirty minutes before he stopped again. With distance and a few turns between them and where they had last stopped, he felt safe enough to take a look at the goods inside the bag. He was never fond of opening gifts in front of the giver, even in his civilian life. It wouldn't do any good to have someone watching find that they needed what was given or be offended if they discarded the gift. 

Ignoring Rachel’s complaints, he pulled out the boots first, setting them on the icy ground. They would be a bit too big for her but later, she could stuff socks or scraps of cloth down to fill the empty space. Or not. Once he sent her and the baby on their way, it was up to her to keep themselves alive.

“Put this on.” He ordered, shoving the coat at her. It wasn’t the thickest but it did have a reflective insulating layer. Those who didn’t know better would have likely disregarded the coat for the extreme cold that was quickly falling over them. 

That would be a mistake however. His own coats had a similar insulating layer. The reflective surface worked to keep body heat close to the core, reflecting it back inward rather than letting it seep out. If she knew how lucky she had gotten, she didn’t show it. 

“They’re too big.” She said as she slipped her feet into the boots. 

“Can you walk in them?” 

“Yeah- I guess, it’s just-”

“Then I don’t care.” He hesitated for a moment, "Pull your pant legs over the boot, it'll help keep the cold out." That was the extent of the advice he felt like giving her as they walked. 

Clint was beyond over the woman behind him as they walked the rest of the way. She was huffing and slow in climbing the stairs. It took everything he had to not leave her behind. He didn’t want to wait for her. He didn’t want to spend any more time than he needed climbing the stairs.

It wouldn’t do any good to leave her behind though, as satisfying as it would be. While he could make better time if he picked her up and carried her, he resisted the urge to do that as well. Sure, she didn’t weigh a whole lot by the looks of her but he still couldn’t afford to expend any more energy on her than he had to.

It was bad enough they would be camping in the building for the night.

Darkness surrounded them as they made their way up the stairs. Rachel tripped and stumbled over her feet in the darkness but he didn’t slow their pace to compensate.

“Hold onto the railing.” He instructed instead, only glancing back at her. Dust floated in the beam of light from the flashlight. “Use it to guide your way.”

She did as he had told her and her speed increased. The amount she complained however did not decrease. When they reached the barricade, he was beyond relieved. Darkness hung overhead. Except for Rachel’s heavy breathing and breathless complaints, they were surrounded by silence. If anyone was following them, it would be hard to notice them, Rachel would likely cover the sound of their footfalls with her bitching. 

Clint only took a minute to rest before he set to work moving the furniture he had used to block the stairwell when he had left. Everything was stacked just as he had left it and that gave him the first real sense of relief since he had put the barricade in place. The sound of scraping furniture filled the stairwell.

While he worked, Rachel sat on the ground. “You’ll regret that when it’s time to get moving again.”

“I just need to rest.” When it came time to stand, she found how right he was. Her legs were stiff and sore. Tears streamed down her face as he pulled her to her feet. It did nothing to inspire sympathy in him as he pushed her on. 

Behind them, he left a trail of overturned file cabinets. It was no barricade but anyone climbing over them would likely make a good deal of noise even if none were disturbed enough to fall down the stairs. It wouldn’t stop someone from coming up the stairs but at least they would know to prepare for visitors. 

“It’s me!” He yelled out as they started up yet another flight of stairs. He called out again every half flight of stairs for the remaining trip. It would put a serious damper on his already fairly shitty night to get shot by Dee. 

“Clint?” The last bit of tension left him when he heard her faint voice carried down the stairs.

“Dee!” He moved faster now, much to Rachel’s dismay. 

It was grueling, making their way up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t slow for her at all. Dee was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, bow gripped tightly in her hands. He could see the arrows in the quiver over her shoulder. It wasn’t sitting right, tilted too much. The baby was tucked inside her coat, against her back.

His hands were on her before he realized he had finished climbing the stairs. They ran up her arms, grabbed onto her shoulders. She was real, firm under his hands. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, fingers trailing up her neck. She leaned into his touch as his thumbs grazed her cheek. 

“I should be asking you that.” Her hands rested on his chest. “You’re the one that was in danger. I was safe up here.”

“I’m fine.” He whispered, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Perfectly fine.” And he was, now. For a long time, ever since the day the world changed, he hadn't been fine. She made him fine. She made him good. 

“Where’s my baby? Where’s Elizabeth? You said you had her.” Clint wasn’t the only one who’s energy was renewed. “You lied, didn’t you?”

“She’s here.” Rachel had stolen Dee’s attention away from Clint. “She’s safe. Where’s Trust?”

“Haven’t seen him.” Clint answered, leading them into the area they had made something resembling camp in. “Must have gotten spooked and ran off. I’m sorry, I know he was important to you.”

“Trust?”

“Rachel, this is Dee- she’s been taking care of your baby. Trust is her dog.”

“He was just a dog I found. I guess it was bound to happen eventually.” Still, knowing he was gone stung. She’d gotten attached to him. 

“I don’t let dogs around my baby.” Rachel said as if it mattered. “Where’s my baby?”

“She’s in my coat.” Dee was harsher in her answer than she had intended to be. She had wanted to relish in the fact that Clint was back, they were together again and he was safe. 

“Can she breath? That doesn’t look safe. It isn’t safe.” Rachel spoke though no one was listening to her. 

“What now? Is it done?” She only glanced at Rachel, keeping her attention focused mainly on Clint for the time being. Dealing with any immediate threat was far more important than reuniting the mother with her baby. 

“It’s too late to head back. We’re going to have to camp here for the night.” Clint knelt down and lit the camp stove. “She need a bottle?” 

“I want to see my baby. Show me my baby!” Rachel was ignored. 

“She’ll probably want to eat when we wake her up. She’s been asleep back there for a while.”

“How do you know she’s not dead?” Rachel accused. Clint ignored Rachel as he grabbed a bottle of water out of a backpack and dumped it into the pot to warm. “I want to see my daughter.”

“You’re going to wake her if you don’t pipe down.” Clint didn’t feel like listening to a baby cry for no reason when the bottle wasn’t even ready yet. 

“I want-”

“Will we be safe staying here for the night?” Dee asked over her. 

“I think so. We’ll sleep in shifts in case but I think it’ll be fine.” 

“How’d it go? I couldn’t really see much, lost track of you. I just- I tried to help.” She handed Clint one of the bags of portioned out formula powder. He poured it into the bottle with the water and started to shake it. 

“Went well enough. The arrows gave great cover, kept everyone distracted.”

“I thought maybe I wasn’t doing enough...” 

“You did more than enough. Took one of them out and kept their attention scattered.”

“Took one out?” Dee mumbled the words as she unzipped her coat. It was cold in the small room but they were shielded from the wind at least. The small propane burner gave off heat and light, though not much. In the corners sat flashlights pointed up, giving them a little more light to see by. 

Clint watched her as she slipped the baby out of her coat. Killing a turkey and killing a man was different. He needed to know that she would be okay knowing she had ended a life. 

“That was the goal, right?” She asked, forcing a smile to her lips. 

“It was. But-” Whatever he was planning to add was cut off by Rachel’s gasp as she cut sight of the bundle in her jacket. 

“Give her to me.” Rachel demanded and Clint watched as Dee hesitated. 

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t worried that she would grow attached to the baby and wish to keep her. Clint wasn’t ready to be a father again. He couldn't be responsible for children. There was a chance he could turn around and fail them again. But if she had asked, would he have agreed to keep the little bundle? Probably, if he was honest with himself. 

Finally, Dee said, “Shield her from the cold, okay?” And passed the bundle onto Rachel. “Keep her close to you. The bottle should be ready.” 

“Is she okay? Was- did-” Rachel struggled to find the question she wanted to ask. She curled herself around the bundle, gazing down at it with more humanity and care than Clint had seen from the woman all day. 

“She is fine.” Dee answered, knowing full well all the emotions that must be swirling within Rachel. 

“We found her in the snow.” Clint offered as he passed the bottle to Rachel. “She was cold and underweight. Dehydrated but amazingly, fine.” 

“No frostbite according to the nurse.” Dee offered.

“Nurse?” Rachel asked as she gazed down at the little face. A tiny hand reached up for her mother’s face as silent tears slipped down her face. 

“Yeah, found a nurse holed up in a Clinic when we hunted down formula for her. Got her a full check up even.”

Clint and Dee busied themselves with heating something small for a dinner. They did their best to keep to themselves. There was only so much they could do to allow Rachel privacy to bond again with her baby while still being within the same room. 

Crashing and clattering sounded from down the stairwell. Clint was on his feet in an instant, bow in hand. A second of thought had him drop the bow and instead snatch up the sword. It was better suited for close quarters combat. 

“Stay put.” He ordered, looking over his shoulder as he swiftly made his way to the stairwell with a flashlight in hand, leaving dust floating behind him. The two woman sat in the dim light, listening to what little sounds there were, eyes shinning with reflected firelight. 


	28. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *hope* to be back to biweekly updates by the end of June. I just started a new job last week so there's a adjustment on top of adjustments. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Some blood. Some ungratefulness.

“What now?” Rachel asked after a bit. Silence stretched on as they had waited for Clint to return. “Where are we going now? Back to your cabin or whatever?”

Dee bristled at the thought. She knew it was reasonable for Rachel to assume she was with them now. They did save her life and take care of her baby. The idea unsettled Deanna the same. The farmhouse was their place. It was her safe place.

“We’ll get you out of the city. Try and grab you some supplies and take you to the clinic. The nurse wanted to give Elsa her vaccines when she was a bit stronger.”

“Elsa?” 

“That’s what we’d taken to calling her. We didn’t know her name and it was hard to just keep calling her ‘The Baby’.”

“Elizabeth. Her name is Elizabeth. Lizzy.” 

“Lizzy then.” Dee smiled. “We were going to let you make your own choices, your own path from there.”

“So you’ll abandon me?” Rachel charged. “Just leave me to die when you two clearly have things figured out.”

“We’re supporting the nurse in the clinic, supplementing her supplies. We’re probably going to continue to do so as long as we can. If you stay with her or leave, it’s up to the two of you but we’re not going to be responsible for you.”

“But you’ll be responsible for her.”

“She is a nurse. She can provide basic medical care if one of us gets shot. She can give Lizzy vaccines and perform procedures. What can you offer us?” Dee demanded before sighing. “Has your milk dried up? Formula is hard to come by right now. I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to find or how often- if you can breastfeed you should.”

“I don’t have much milk...”

“Put her to breast anyway. It should stimulate it. You can supplement with formula as needed but I won’t promise we can find more or that there even is more to find.”

“You have to help me feed her.” Rachel insisted, cradling the baby to her.

“No, we don’t.” Dee said coolly, much to Rachel’s shock. “We saved your baby from the snow. Clint saved you and liberated the city. We don’t owe you anything more.”

“But-”

“I suggest you shut up, be thankful and learn what you can, while you can, until we send you on your way. We didn’t have to come get you. Sasha would have gladly taken Lizzy in.”

“Sasha?” 

“The nurse we’re going to be taking you to. I don’t care what you do after, I don’t care-.” 

Clattering cut her off. It was closer now. Dee didn’t remember grabbing it but as she stood, her fingers clutched a large knife. Her knuckles were white with the force of it. The beating of her heart was loud in her ears. Still, she struggled to hear. 

She wished Clint would shout. Yell. Make some noise. Something. Anything to let her know he was alright. The silence taunted her, giving up nothing in return for her soul’s begging. 

She was torn. Should she follow Clint? Should she stay, as he wanted? What if he needed her help? What if he was hurt? What if?

~~~~~<3

Clint’s boots echoed in stairwell, heavy and foreboding. All in all, the time in the city had been easy. He should have expected more trouble to come. He should have expected the fight to continue. He should have known better. They should have moved out as soon as he rejoined Dee. His miscalculation will have killed her. It would be his fault, again, that the one he loved would be no more. 

Whimpering startled him. He jumped and whipped the flashlight around toward the source of the sound. It settled on the bright eyes of Trust. Blood colored his muzzle and seeped out of his side but his tail wagged regardless. 

“Is there anyone else here, Boy?” Clint knelt down in front of the dog and listened. Behind Trust, Clint could see the overturned cabinet that the dog had to climb over to get where he was.

“Let’s take a look at you, eh?” He whispered, running his fingers through the fur. His coat had gotten thick with the cold of winter. Pulling his fingers away, they were slicked in red.

There was only so much he could do to examine the injury by flashlight alone. It was clear the dog had been shot, at least once. From what he could see, there didn’t appear to be more than a few cuts to his muzzle. Most of the blood on his furry face looked to belong to someone or something else. 

“Oh boy, what did you get up to today?”

A knot twisted in his gut as he watched the blood seep out of the wound to his shoulder. It occurred to him that he was maybe more worried about the dog’s safety than that of the woman he had Rachel. Sure, the dog had slipped his mind in the heat of the moment. It was easy to ignore the worry when he couldn’t see it. But now, Trust was before him after struggling to make it back to them. That twisted his insides far more than the possibility of Rachel dying and Elsa- Elizabeth being raised by another. 

Clint scooped up the dog in his arms, balancing the weight as best he could. Thankfully, though it likely exasperated the pain, Trust made no move to lash out. While he didn’t want to get bitten, he wouldn’t blame the dog. 

The dog wagged his tail and panted as he was carried up the stairs. Clint would swear up and down if anyone asked that Trust had to have been breed for apocalyptic situations. The dog was fierce and loyal to a fault. It was what they needed in a companion. He was thankful that Dee had found the dog early on. 

“You’ll be okay.” Clint whispered as he climbed the stairs. Was he telling the dog that, or himself?

~~~~~<3

Her knuckles were white as she clutched the knife in her hands. She moved silently through the dark office space, making her way toward the stairwell, one inch at a time. Deanna knew she should have stayed put. She knew that was what Clint had told her to do. She knew it was what he wanted her to do. 

But she was worried about him. He had only just came back and it was so dark now. She wished Trust was there with them. The dog would have helped ease her nerves. 

Outside, the clouds were clearing. The moon peeked through clouds outside, shining more pale light through the large windows. It was enough that she could see but not enough to calm her nerves. 

She wanted nothing more than to grab Clint and run. They could run and run all night, until they made it back to the truck. They could drive back to the fence and lock it behind them. That was where she wanted to be. That was where she was safe, where they were safe. 

The pounding of her heart was deafening in her ears. Clint had left the door to the stairwell propped open with a chair. She waited and fought back tears. She couldn’t say why her eyes welled up but they did. 

From the stairwell, the sounds of heavy footsteps drifted up. The steps were too heavy. She knew Clint’s walk, had spent months listening to it now. He didn’t have a heavy footfall. It was something that stuck out to her, he wasn’t a big man by any means but he wasn’t small either. He was stacked full of dense muscle on his compact frame yet he somehow always had a light tread. 

The steps were too heavy. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. Where was he? Who was this? 

Blinking quickly, she pushed tears away with the help of the adrenaline flooding her system. She had to protect Elsa- no, Elizabeth. Rachel wasn’t in a position to protect Elizabeth. Dee knew in her heart, she had to be ready to kill whoever was coming up those stairs to protect herself and that baby. 

There was something different, this time. The weight of the knowledge was different than it was on the roof. There was a distance then. It didn’t feel as real. She was removed from it. She didn’t see the blood, didn’t feel the blood. 

This time, she’d be right there. The knife was in her hands. This time, she’d see the life as she ended it. Could she do it? Would she do it?

She couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding in her ears and the heavy footsteps. Her breath seemed to slam into her chest and rip from her lungs with the force of a hurricane. Her ankle ached with each step, sending dull reminders up her leg of the injury that could have been the end of her life. It reminded her of how close she had been to death. She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not while Clint needed her. Not when he would be coming back for her. He would miss her. He needed her. And she needed him, needed him needing her. 

The too heavy steps came closer. Her heart beat faster. Her grip tightened somehow even more. Her breath froze in her chest. They were right outside now. 

She had to move fast. Surprise them before they could hurt her. Before they could get to the baby. Before they could react. She tried to remember the things Clint had taught her but there wasn’t much. Her fingers hurt from how tightly they were wrapped around the hilt of the knife. 

She forced a breath deep into her lungs. As she let the air out, she lunged forward. The moonlight reflected a stray beam of light. The adrenaline flooding her system made time seem to move about her differently. 

The first thing she noticed was the paw, far too high to make any sense naturally. Than was the frame, the body she knew so well. It was a body she wanted to spend more time getting to know. Their eyes locked before she could change course. Her body weight was carried forward, the momentum never slowing. She didn’t have more than a heartbeat to think, let alone stop herself. 

“Oh Shi-” Clint twisted, yanking his shoulder back.

She watched with wide eyes as the blade cut through the shoulder of his coat. She fell forward as her fingers went slack. Red was smeared along the blade. It was an ugly darkness and looked almost black as it clattered to the floor but she knew what it was. There wasn’t anything else that it could have been. 

It was Clint’s blood. 

His large hand wrapped around her wrist even as the blade fell. “It’s me.” 

“Oh God.” She choked on the sounds as she spoke. Her free hand flew to his arm where the fabric of his coat had been torn open. It was wet and warm and her stomach rolled with the knowledge that it was his blood and that she was the reason it was soaking the jacket. “Oh god, I stabbed you.” 

“What?” she stumbled back out of the stairwell, black crowding into her vision. Clint stepped into the room, not letting her wrist go. Her eyes were focused on his arm, the torn fabric and dark wetness that seemed to keep spreading. It was all she could see. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“Dee,” 

“Oh god, I- I thought- It didn’t sound like you- Oh god, how bad is it? Is- are- shit.”

“Dee!” When he snapped, voice climbing higher than she’d ever heard, her eyes snapped to him. Tears shone in them, reflecting points of stray moonlight back at him. He was no stranger to the way she felt at that moment. He knew how hard it was to think clearly, to see clearly when the body was flooded with chemicals.

She had tried to cut him down. If he had been paying less attention, if he had not been expecting it, she would have. Sure, after the first strike he would have been able to take her out within seconds, but someone else? She could have very well taken down another person. 

Clint was oddly proud of that but now wasn’t the time. Now wasn’t the time to think about how her being able to defend herself meant that he could take her with when he left. How, they didn’t have to stay at the farmhouse. Now was the time to calm her down before she blacked out over nothing. 

“I’m fine.” He pressed, repeating himself again as she took a deep breath. 

“But the blood?”

“Is not mine.” Clint said, though he wasn’t wholly sure. He’d often find cuts and scrapes after a day in the field that he had no memory of getting. Who’s to say that this wouldn’t be another cut he hadn’t realized he had at the time? “It’s Trust’s.”

“What?” It felt like the floor dropped out from under her, though she wouldn’t have said it was possible to feel that way seconds before. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen him, hadn’t registered him on Clint’s shoulders. The tail wagged over his shoulder and Trust lived his head with a doggy grin. 

“Is he okay?” She asked only to answer herself, “That’s a dumb question- he wouldn’t be bleeding if he was. You wouldn’t be carrying him if he was.”

“There’s a chance for him to be, I think.”

“Really?” 

“Let’s get him food and water- see if he’ll eat and all that.” 

“Should he be eating if he’s hurt?” She’d learned about shock when she had taken a first aid class forever ago. There was a time when she had thought she had to know the things she had learned in it to be a good mother but most of it was forgotten or fragmented within a year. The class didn’t teach the things that ended up counting anyway, like how to prevent your kids from getting on a bus on the one morning they shouldn’t. 

“If he eats, its a good sign.” Clint didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t sure how much of a good sign it was. He was no doctor, let alone a vet. As a boy, when a pet got sick or injured his father would take it out back and shoot it and that was that. 

“Okay.” She sounded as unconvinced as he felt but there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done about it. He didn’t want to dispose of the dog and call it good. He’d been too good to Dee since she had found him and too good to him since he found them both. 

“Is everything okay?” Rachel asked when they walked into the small room. “What is that?”

“It’s Trust.” Clint answered simply, carefully setting the dog down near enough to the burner to get some of the very little warmth it gave off. 

“Is it dead?” 

“He’s not dead.”

“I don’t want him near my Lizzy.” 

“He’s slept under your Lizzy’s crib every night since we found her.” Dee snapped as she popped open the top on a can of dog food and dumped it into a shallow bowl. Trust nibbled at the offering. He lacked his usual zeal but he did eat and she tried to tell herself that Clint said it was a good thing if he was willing to eat. 

“How could you let a dog sleep under a crib? What if he attacked her?” Rachel demanded. 

“I trusted him not to.” Clint answered before Dee could. 

“And what, you’re just trusting your dog? What if he’s old and cranky?”

“I don’t think he’s more than a few years old.” Dee answered this time. 

“You don’t know?” Rachel was outraged and walking on terribly thin ice. “How long have you had the dog?” 

“Long enough.” Clint answered. 

“I found him in a house, starving to death a few months ago. He’s been with me sense.” 

“You just trusted a stray with my baby’s life?” 

“I trusted a dog that had saved my life to protect her life.” Dee’s voice was climbing. She was typically in control and not one to yell. She had prided herself on how rarely she raised her voice at the children but this woman would test the patience of a saint. 

“I suggest you drop the attitude and not say another word about our dog.” Clint warned, standing from where he had been kneeling next to Trust. “If you continue, we will leave you here. In this building. Alone with your precious baby to figure out what to do for yourself.”

“You can’t. You’re an Av-” Rachel’s voice gave a hint of the panic storming inside. 

“An Avenger?” Clint taunted. It was cruel but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Dee didn’t seem to care either. “That ship’s done set sail. I suggest you stop waiting for an Avenger to nobly save you. And certainly don’t start counting on this former Avenger to give a damn what happens to you now that the battle is over.”

“He’s right.” Dee stood. She didn’t want to leave tonight. She was cold, tired and everything ached but if he made that call, she would follow him out into the night. She was pretty sure she would always follow him. “We don’t owe you anything. No one does.”

“If you want any more help from us- check your attitude, shut up and keep up.” Clint was clear he was done with the topic. Rachel’s mouth snapped shut with enough force that they could hear her teeth clank together. “I’ll take first watch.” 

“No, you’ve done a lot more. You get some rest and I’ll wake you in a bit.” Clint was too tired to argue with her and simply nodded. 

“Wake me up if you need anything. If you hear anything.”


	29. Story TIme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: retelling of the story up till now? Non-graphic mentions of death, babies and dead babies.

Clint nestled down on the ground. His back was propped against the wall and he was slouched over. Long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Dee watched in silence as he seemed to settle into sleep within seconds.

She could never fall asleep that fast. She’d always been a light sleeper but it’d gotten better since she’d joined up with him and they made it to the farmhouse. The firelight from the small propane burner danced over their faces as they sat.

Rachel seemed afraid to look at her or Clint, instead keeping her head down and her eyes on Elsa. No, her name is Elizabeth. Lizzy. That was her name and she no business holding onto the idea of Elsa the baby.

She knew better. She didn’t want the baby. She couldn’t stomach the idea of taking care of her. As much as she wanted to believe it was better that they found her, part of her mind still cried that Lizzy’s life would have been better if it had been cut short. She didn't deserve to live in this new world. It would have been better if she had died before they found her. Rachel didn’t have much milk and there wasn’t a lot of formula to be had. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t fair that her kids were not a part of the 50% that turned to dust in the decimation and yet, they were still gone. It wasn’t right that they had to experience the pain of burning to death. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t have comforted them in their last moments. It wasn’t right that the sounds of their screams still haunted her nightmares.

“Are you okay?” Rachel’s voice snapped Dee out of her thoughts. Relaxing her fingers, she felt the joints creak. She couldn’t remember grabbing her pack but she had curled herself in on it and was clinging to it. The corners of her eyes were damp.

“I just want to go home.” Dee whispered.

“You will, soon. You two will abandon us and go safe behind the fence while we die outside. While everyone dies outside.”Dee was silent for a moment. She’d not been kind to Rachel and even now, she felt the annoyance prickle at her.

“It’s not that home I’m crying for.” Rachel hummed, for once minding her tongue or she was too tired to keep up the attitude. “I didn’t always live there.”

“Why are you there then? How did you convince him to take you in?”

“You can’t.”

“Help me. Woman to woman. If you had a child- maybe you’d understand.”

“You think I’m not a mother? You want to ‘mother to mother’ have a talk?” Deanna’s whisper was harsh.

“I mean- if you were you’d”

“I had two. In this bag-” Dee ripped open the zipper and reached in, under the bottles and cans to the bottom. Her fingers curled around the worn fabric. A small part of her relaxed as she pulled out the small tired blanket and stuffed fox. “A girl and a boy.”

“So you understand. So convince him to let us in. He trusts you, right? You can-”

“No.”

“But we could die? She’ll die.”

“Maybe that’s better?” Dee snapped, checking her voice as she glanced at Clint. His foot twitched but he seemed to still be asleep.

“Do you know what I’ve seen in the last what, six months?”

“Did you not see what you just saved me from?”

“I’ll go from most recent to the start for you. I killed people to save you. Living people who had friends, families who may still be alive to miss them and who may have not had much of a choice in what they were doing.”

“Yeah, but-”

“I was attacked in front of a store, in a parking lot. I sprained my ankle and killed a man trying to protect myself. Trust killed another protecting me. Clint- He saved me. I didn’t trust him at first. He brought me to the farmhouse.”

“So, why won’t he-” Deanna kept talking, not caring that Rachel had spoke. Somehow, it felt good to say it. To tell her story to someone. How much she was going to tell, she hadn’t decided.

“Before that, I had stopped in Utah. I killed a man there, too. He scared me and seemed insane. I shot him and when I searched his backpack- there was cans of formula. Some were busted open. His ID showed a local address. God, I felt so guilty. I hadn’t seen formula when I’d go into stores for supplies.”

“You killed a man trying to feed his baby.” Rachel accused.

“That’s what I thought.” Deanna still wouldn’t look at her. “I went to the address. I don’t know, I expected the wife or mom to be there. Maybe I was going to beg for forgiveness or for her to kill me. I don’t know. When I got there, no one was there. I looked and looked. Then I found her.”

“What happened to her? Did you give her away?”

“She was already dead.”

“You should have been faster.”

“She’d been dead for days, maybe weeks. Before I killed her dad. I think- I think the grief drove him mad. She was in clean clothes in the middle of the bed. I don’t think he was willing to admit she wasn’t alive anymore.

That was a few months ago, closer to the beginning. Before that, I met up with a young man who helped me figure out how to survive. I don’t know if he was a doomsday guy or what, but he had a plan that seemed like a solid one. He helped me figure out how to start moving forward.

We stopped to get supplies before leaving our hometown in California. We were loading everything up in the motor homes we were planning to live in. His family had owned a dealership. He- we had a run in with a teacher from my daughter’s school. The teacher- he shot him. I was lucky to get away.”

“I’m sorry.” Rachel whispered. Dee wondered what Rachel thought the lives of people in other places were like.

“It’s a blur before that. There was a dead body in a gas station. The news TV station was taken over by someone calling themselves a king.”

“Another one?”

“There’s probably more than a few.” Dee glanced to Clint again. He still was sleeping, snoring lightly. “Before that, a news anchor’s sister committed suicide. Mr. Rick and Mr. Taft, teachers from my daughter’s school- the same ones who attacked us while loading the RVs- broke into my house to steal food and supplies.

That brings me to the start of it all. The moment the new world began and the old world ended. The sounds- god I can’t get them out of my head. The crunch of metal hitting metal. The squeal of tires. The smell- smoke thick. The sound of screams- god so much screaming and waiting for sirens that never came.”

“What happened?” Rachel’s face was pale as Deanna shook like a leaf while tears streamed down her face. In that moment, Dee was gone and all that was left was the woman she had been, Deanna morning the loss of the life she had once had. The strength she had learned was nowhere to be found.

“They went to a year around school- I was a single mother so it was easier and they were getting a good education. No summer slidebacks in their knowledge. Did you know that kids forget up to 20% of what they learned the prior year during summer break?

I put them on the school bus. It was sunny, a beautiful day. I should have kept them home and taken them to the beach or something. But I didn’t. I needed to go pick up her birthday cake and set everything up for the party. The bus turned and the fuel truck barreled through the red light. I’m pretty sure the driver had turned to dust.

I don’t know how many on that bus also were in the half that were decimated. But I saw their faces in the window as the fire spread. I couldn’t- people tried but the emergency exits were pinned. They couldn’t get out of the windows and the fire was hot- god it was so hot. The roar was deafening but I could still hear them. I could hear their screams. I could hear them yelling for me. I could see them and they could see me. I close my eyes and I see their faces.

I should have gone to them. I should have gotten closer. I should have tried to get them out. I should have done more than sit there, watching while others tried. I should have died trying. 

But I didn’t.”

Rachel sat and picked at the blanket wrapped around Elizabeth as Deanna stopped and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. They should have survived. No one deserves to go through that.”

“I’m not sure.” Deanna whispered as she prepared to give voice to her greatest secret. “Maybe it was better that they died. I don’t know if I would have wanted them to live in this world. Maybe it’s better for all the kids that turned to dust to not have to know what came next. Maybe the next best thing for them is to die early, quickly and painlessly if possible and not watch their parents become murderers and thieves.”

“You don’t mean that.” Rachel said, holding Elizabeth tighter. A part of her wanted to believe that Dee hadn’t met what she had said but a larger part of her feared that she did. It occurred to her that this woman, who had been taking care of her baby, that she had been counting on for refuge and safety, was deeply broken. 

“Maybe.” Deanna answered. “We’ve all lost things. It’s a dangerous idea to count on anyone.”

“You count on him.”

“And it could someday get me killed. Or I could get him killed. We cannot- will not be solely responsible for you. We can’t.”

“But-” 

“I need him and he needs me. That is the only reason we are together. That’s the only reason you should band together and trust anyone right now. Without that need, there is nothing to stop them from turning on you. Nothing stopped teachers from turning on their values, their morals. Anyone can turn.”

“How do you know the nurse won’t turn on me? I don’t have anything to offer her. I don’t have anything to offer anyone. Should I just give up, kill Lizzy then myself? Is that what you think would be the solution, the best course of action for me? Just end it because I’m too useless to be helpful?” Rachel’s voice was climbing some but the withering look Deanna gave her brought it down again. 

“When did I say that?” Dee snapped. “We saved your life. It’s not that we want you dead, it's that you are your own responsibility. We gave you a second chance, a second start at this new crappy world.

As for Sasha- You should be safe enough with her. She didn’t want to let us keep Lizzy at first. What she seems to need is someone to take care of. I get that, I needed that too. It’s how I ended up with Trust. What you need is someone to help support you and band together with you. You both have needs the other can meet and she’s helped us before.”

“So you trust her?” Rachel’s fire was dying and Dee was thankful for it. 

“Well enough, I think. She needs food too. We’re supplementing her supplies so she’s got reason to keep us happy. She saved Lizzy, she had formula for her, checked her out and helped us warm her up. I still can’t believe she was still alive when we found her.”

“And that is good enough?” Rachel looked timid, scared in the darkness. She lacked to fire that seemed to hold back fear.Tears welled in her eyes. 

Dee reminded herself that the woman had been through a lot of trauma. They all had been and each reacted differently. Some semblance of normal would do her good and hopefully Sasha could offer that. 

“You should get some sleep. It’s a long walk back to the truck but once we get to it, it’ll be easy going.” 

For once, Rachel didn’t argue. She nodded and curled herself around Lizzy on the ground with her back to the fire. She was cold but there wasn’t anything that could be done about it. Dee was cold too but that would only serve to help keep her awake. 

Silence stretched on around her. Her heart ached and felt raw. Part of her wished she had never told her story to Rachel. Another part of her felt a weight off her shoulders to have finally said it, all of it. 

“You should sleep.” Clint mumbled as he reached out for her. “It’s my turn.”

Deanna almost jumped out of her skin. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, watching the fire and lost in her thoughts. Tears had long dried on her face and she had repacked her bag. 

"I'm fine." She whispered. 

"Fine is good. But you won't be in the morning and it's a long walk. Come here."

She didn't argue. She didn't want to argue. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to be held by him. He was her sanctuary. As much as she wanted to be safe behind the gate at the farmhouse, what she needed to feel safe, to be safe, was him. Just him. 

Curling herself around him, her fingers dug into the layers of coats that covered his body. He shifted and unzipped his coat and slipped it from his shoulders. 

“You’ll get cold.” 

“Take yours off too.” He answered with a sly smile. 

With a sigh, she did. The bitter cold bit at her arms as she handed over her coat. She watched as he spread it out on the ground and settled himself on it. When he again reached out for her, she went willingly enough. Her coat was still warm from her under them. She could feel the warmth of him as he spread his coat out over them. 

“It’s not blankets but it’s better than nothing. We’ll be warmer this way.” He mumbled into the top of her head as he held her tightly to him. 

“What if you fall asleep?” She mumbled, already dozing off. 

“I won’t.” Clint promised as he watched her slip into sleep. Her protests were half hearted at best. 

She felt so good pressed against him, warm and solid. He drank in the feeling. Even if he had nothing else, he had her. It wasn’t something he planned on giving up any time soon. It wasn’t something he’d be willing to give up, ever. 

It was early when Clint nudged her awake. He didn’t want to, waking her meant facing the day. There was a deep ache in his back and shoulders, one he hadn’t felt in a long time. It’d been a few years since he’d been on a mission where he’d had to rough it this much. 

“Come on.” He whispered when Dee’s groggy eyes blinked open. “Eat what we can and set out a share for her-” his eyes flicked over to Rachel, still sleeping and curled around Lizzy. “Get a bottle ready too and pack everything else up. We’ll let her sleep until we’re almost ready.”

“Will we make it back to the house tonight?” 

“If we’re lucky.” Clint sighed. “Careful not to wake her- I’m not ready to listen to her yet.” 

Dee laughed softly before leaning up and placing a soft kiss to his lips. Clint’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer somehow. His breath washed over her. “If we’re not, I don’t wanna get up.” She mumbled against his lips.

“I know Babe, but we have to.” 

She whined dramatically and he chuckled. He was right, she knew it but in that moment it was like they were in a little bubble. The bubble that seemed to surround the farmhouse was somewhere there, with them, in that abandoned office building. If the bubble could find them there, she decided it could find them anywhere. The bubble of happiness and safety wasn’t the farmhouse, it was him. 

“I love you.” She whispered as if it was some great secret. 

“I love you too.” He answered. “But up, now. I really need to piss.” 


	30. Leaving

“Can we take a break?” Rachel asked for the fourth time that morning. 

They answered “No.” in unison. 

Stopping wasn’t an option. It was warmer that morning than it was the morning prior and they were thankful for that. Thick white clouds hung low in the sky, tinted with the rising sun. A few fat snowflakes fell, threatening to call for more. 

Under normal circumstances, Dee would have loved the possibility of a heavy snowfall. The snow wasn’t perfectly white but it was white enough. If she pretended that it was just some dirt or ash from a fire nearby, it was white enough.

A fresh snowfall covered the world around them until it melted some or real life came and disturbed it and every time that happened, Dee clung to it. It hid away the horrors of broken glass, covered corpses and auto wrecks just the same. It blanketed everything. 

Dee sent a silent prayer to no one in particular that it would wait to snow until they made it to the truck. Right now, fresh snow could mean trouble. They were already taking enough of a risk in keeping to the main roads but it was easier walking, allowing them to make better time. 

Still, it left them in the open in exchange. The last thing she wanted was fresh snow for them to leave obvious tracks in. Clint said he was pretty sure that the followers of King Jacob had abandoned the city but that only could give so much comfort. 

It was a simple case of risk management. Trust hadn’t wanted to eat much that morning. He had little interest in water and lacked some of the energy he had the night prior. They told themselves it was the pain, they wouldn’t want to eat in his condition either. 

But there was that voice, in the back of the mind, telling them that he didn’t have much time. They needed to hurry. 

There was a chance that Sasha would refuse to help the dog. She wasn’t a vet. They needed her to help him though. Dee needed Trust. Sasha would help. She had to. 

In her heart, Dee knew that Clint wasn’t above withholding aid to force her hand. 

Clint looked back and Smiled at her. They walked single file, with Rachel in the middle and Dee in the rear.

“How much longer?” Rachel asked. “My feet hurt.” 

“A few more hours.” Clint answered. 

Rachel looked like she was about to say something, complain some more. Dee impulsive reached down and grabbed a chunk of old snow. Parts crumbled in her hand, some stuck to the fabric of her glove. Without thought, she chucked it at Rachel. 

It landed with a light thump, falling apart on contact. Rachel’s head snapped back. Before she could say anything, Dee gave her stern look, willing her to mind her tongue. 

They only stopped walking when the baby fussed. Dee insisted that Rachel try and nurse. Rachel protested the idea but Dee refused to give her a bottle until she tried. 

The tiny infant struggled to latch. Dee had expected it and reassured Rachel as much as she could. There were layers and coats in the way, she was stressed and the baby was cold. Once she settled and the tiny body started soaking in the body heat directly from Rachel’s skin however, she made a better effort. 

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Rachel hissed as she fixed her shirt and snached the bottle from Clint. “This isn’t warm enough.” 

“It’s as warm as it’s getting. We don’t have time to boil water.” Clint said before starting ahead again. Break time was over, the babe could drink from a bottle while they walked. 

“I know it felt like a failed attempt.” Dee walked next to Rachel. “It wasn’t, though. She latched and she got something. It takes time but your body will respond as long as you keep trying. Don’t give up.”

“It’s not going to work.” 

“Not with that attitude.” It was a phrase Dee had once said to her children every time they said they couldn’t do something. Somehow, though Rachel wasn’t really all that much younger than her, it felt right to say it.

~~~~~<3

“Why are we getting off the road?” Rachel had been quiet most of the walk. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to complain, she did. They were simply walking at such a pace that she was almost always winded. 

Dee was thankful for Rachel’s silence. She wanted to believe that Clint wouldn’t just leave the woman behind or that she wouldn’t let him. The truth was that she wasn’t sure of either of those things though. 

“The truck is up ahead, off the road.” Clint answered.

“I don’t see it.” 

Dee rolled her eyes. “That’s the point.”

“Why go through all that trouble?” Rachel asked as they got closer. “It’s not like someone’s going to steal it.”

“Never count on that.” Dee reminded her. 

“Get this through your head, unless what you’ve got is locked up where no one else can get to it- never count on that. If you want to keep what you’ve got, always, always count on there being someone else who wants to steal it.”

“It’s not like I’ve got anything to steal.” Rachel grumbled as Clint uncovered the truck.

“You’ve got a coat. Boots too.” Clint answered.

“Your body, too.” Dee added. They all knew what was done to at least some of the women back in the city under the rule of King Jacob. “You never know who is going to want to take what you’ve got.”

Clint carefully nestled Trust on the floor behind the driver’s seat. The dog gave a small whine of protest at being jostled around. Still, his tail tumped against the seat as he licked Clint’s arm. 

“Just a bit longer.” He whispered, scratching the dog’s neck. 

“Careful not to bump him.” Dee said, helping Rachel into the backseat of the truck. It was small and cramped. Being an older model, the truck’s backseat was more of an afterthought than a proper seat but it did the job. 

“You care more about that dog than me.” Rachel was more talking to herself but that didn’t stop Dee from answering. 

“I do.”

The truck roared to life as Dee slammed the passenger door closed. The sound of the engine was music to her ears. As Clint pulled onto the ice covered road, Dee relaxed into the seat. 

It didn’t take long for her to doze off. Between the movement of the truck, the sound of the road and the warmth that was soon pouring from the vents, it lulled her into a peaceful sleep. She shifted to get more comfortable, causing her back to pop. Clint chuckled to himself and the sound carried her off to sleep.

~~~~~<3

When the truck stopped, Dee jerked awake. “What?”

“We’re here.” Clint reached over with a reassuring hand, squeezing her thigh and offered her a smile. He knew every bit of what she was feeling. It was always a shock to fall asleep while in transit while on a mission. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Rachel asked as she keeped between the seats. 

“Yeah.” Clint answered before turning his attention back to Dee. “Stay here with her. I’ll talk to Sasha then I’ll come back out.”

“You make it sound like it’s not safe.” Rachel complained. 

Clint paid her no mind as he got out of the truck. The force of the door slamming shut rocked them. He found it was easier to deal with Rachel if he ignored her. Dee’s ability to reason with the damned woman and shut her up was beyond his amazement. She would be a fine asset to any team and he was thankful to have her on his side. 

“Sasha!” He called as he walked along the front of the building, making a point to be in view of the windows. “It’s us.” 

There was movement of the curtains where he assumed she was watching him. He walked slowly toward the main door. Sasha was lucky, though this was a clinic it lacked the large panes of plate glass windows and doors that many modern clinics would have. 

It was a cabin style building with thick walls and few windows. Icicles hung from the roof, showing evidence of the warmer few days they had enjoyed between the winter snowfalls. Newer buildings were often designed in a way to prevent them for safety but this building wasn’t newer at all. It had thick walls and a heavy wooden door, painted the color of berries and with only a small window.

Clint’s knuckles rapped against that heavy wooden door. “Sasha! If you don’t open up, I’ll come inside my way.” 

The sound of something heavy being moved across the floor was muffled by the door. He didn’t like that sound. He didn’t like not knowing what was on the other side of the door. There wasn’t anything he had seen that made it look like anyone other than them had been to the Clinic but that didn’t always mean anything. In the back of his mind, he wondered if perhaps somehow the late King Jacob’s men had found this place and was lying in wait for him. 

The door opened a crack, revealing Sasha’s tired face. She looked better than when they had first seen her. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and looked to have been brushed recently. Her skin was blotchy and had more color to it. It was amazing what a few meals, heat and a little support could give a person. 

“You came back.” She said.

“I promised we would.”

“Did you bring more food?” 

“Not yet. I- we need your help.”

“With what?”

“Trust- he got shot. I don’t think he’s doing that good. It looks like it’s probably just a flesh wound- I hope it is at least.”

“I’m not a vet.” She protested like he had predicted she would.

“That dog, he’s everything to Dee. You take a look. You do the best you can for him or you never see us again.” 

“What if I can’t save him? What if he dies anyway? Then you’ll still leave me to die?”

“You have my word that we won’t. All I’m asking for is for you to give it your best shot. Just try, that’s all.”

Sasha signed. “Bring him in.”

“There’s another thing-”

“God, what else?”

“You remember the baby?” Clint turned and waved for Dee and Rachel, signaling for them to head inside. 

“Is she alright?” 

“She’s fine. Doing great actually.”

“Thank god.” She interrupted. 

“She’s probably good enough for you to give her some of her shots. Anyway, we have her mother with us.”

“I thought you said she was captive in the city?” Sasha opened the door wider as her eyes flicked over to Dee and the new woman.

“She was. King Jacob is dead now. The city has been freed.”

Dee gave Sasha a warm smile as she slipped through the doorway. Rachel hung back, clutching the baby to her and watching carefully. Clint held his arm out to her, calling her forward. She didn’t want to get closer but she pushed herself closer. 

She didn’t know what else to say, so she said “Hi.” 

“This is Rachel.” Clint added, placing a reassuring hand on the small woman’s back, much to Rachel’s surprise. “Let’s go in and talk?”

It wasn’t a question of if they could go into Sasha’s space, though it was worded as one. Rachel was very sure that Clint was the one in charge. Sasha had very little say in the matter. It was only presented as if ‘no’ was an option for her. If what they had said was true, if Clint and Dee had given Sasha their word that they would supply her, she needed to keep them happy. 

Sasha opened the door wider and stepped aside. The inside of the Clinic was warm, but dark. It felt good to be warm. Rachel hadn’t been truly warm in a long time. She hadn’t thought that it could feel better than being in the truck with the heat pouring out of the vents but it did. 

“I’ve been trying to save wood, getting it nice and hot in here at night and keeping a low fire going during the day- mostly just embers to keep the smoke as light as possible so no one finds me.”

“Have you seen anyone else since we left?” Clint asked as she locked the door behind them. “Let me.” He said when she went to push the heavy arm chair in front of it again.

“Yesterday, a few men ran by on the main road while I was outside. They didn’t see me or even look down the road.”

“Are you sure?” Clint tensed instantly. “Why were you near the mainroad?”

“I found- Dr. Walker had a gun in his office. I was walking through the woods- along the road so I wouldn’t get lost. It was a warmer day so I figured if I got lucky, I’d see an animal or something. If I got luckier, maybe I could shoot it? I don’t know.”

“No, that’s good. And staying in the woods is good too. You did good.” He sighed, adding to his mental list of things to bring down to Sasha. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Not sense them.” She answered. “I should check the baby- and Rachel.”

“Not yet.” Clint answered.

Dee sat with Rachel on the large couch in the waiting room, watching. She knew that Clint was bartering, making sure Sasha remembered that he was in charge. Sasha longed to do something that reminded her of what was before the snap. She longed for something normal and to pretend for a few minutes that none of this had happened. Dee also knew that Clint was using that as a reward for after she’d done what they needed. 

“I’m going to go back out and bring Trust in. He’s been shot. You are going to look at him and do what you can for him. Then, and only then, do you get to check out the baby and Rachel.”

Sasha sighed as she watched Clint move the chair again. She didn't want to treat a dog. It was an insult to her education. She wasn't a goddamn veterinarian. She was a nurse. 

When Clint returned with the dog in his arms, she had to admit he did look in rough shape. She wasn't blinded to how much he meant to Dee. There was the simple fact that she needed them hanging over her head. 

"Put him on the floor in an exam room. Hold onto him, don't let him bite me." She couldn't believe she was going to do it. 

“Thank you.” She turned at the sound of Dee’s voice, tearing her eyes away from Clint as he walked back to his truck. 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Elizabeth fussed in Rachel’s arms, drawing Sasha’s eyes to her. “Let me check her while he gets the dog?” 

Rachel’s eyes darted to Dee as she opened her mouth. Dee spoke faster however. 

“No.” She said. “Not until after Trust.” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” Sasha signed. “you all are." 

Dee crossed the room, to the door when she saw Clint approaching. She held it open for him, taking the chance to give Trust a scratch behind his ears as they went by. When they were inside, she pushed the heavy armchair once again in front of the door. 

Clint put the dog on a cushioned exam table. It was clear Sasha didn't approve but he paid her no mind. What mattered was if he approved. She needed him far more than he needed her and they both knew it. Power was in his hands. 

"How much do you think he weighs?" Sasha asked. 

"Why?" 

"I'm going to sedate him. I don't feel like getting bit."

"Is that safe?" Dee asked from the doorway.

"There's always a risk." Clint answered. "Wait with Rachel? I don't want her alone." 

Dee nodded but lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer. With a sigh, she disappeared. 

"Probably around 80 pounds?" Clint said, answering Sasha's earlier question. 

"Hold him." Sasha asked as she drew liquid from a vial into a syringe. "I'm doseing like I would for a kid. I can add more if I need to but…"

"Giving too little you can correct. Too much you can't." Clint offered and Sasha nodded. 

His arms wrapped around the body of the dog. He moved Trust's head to rest on his shoulder, snout behind his neck. If he lunged from the needle poke, chances are he wouldn't get anyone. 

Sasha gave the dose and Trust flinched, offering only a whimper of protest. It took a few short minutes for the medication to relax him and his eyes to slip closed. Clint tapped the dog's nose a few times, checking for a reaction. 

"I think he's out." 

Clint agreed. "I'll keep an eye on his breathing."


	31. Stew

Dee paced the waiting room. Each lap across the wood floor took less time. When she realized she was near a jog, she forced herself to slow down. It wouldn't do to work herself up. 

She should have been talking to Rachel. Now was a perfect time to explain the situation with Sasha in more detail. How else could Rachel ever feel comfortable enough to trust the new woman. If Rachel didn’t trust Sasha, how could they be sure that she would stay with her?

If Rachel left the Clinic and struck out on her own, it was very likely that her baby would die. If she got lucky, she herself would survive until the spring. Dee didn’t want to put much time, effort or resources into keeping the ungrateful woman alive but she also didn’t want her to die. There had already been more than enough death. 

The fact that they’d already done too much already to keep her alive gnawed at her. They had left the safety of the farmhouse to keep her alive. They killed people to keep her alive. Trust got hurt because they decided to save her. She owed it to them to survive until the spring. If saving her resulted in Trust's death, she owed it to them to survive. 

Swallowing her anxiety, Dee forced herself to sit next to Rachel. “Make yourself at home.” 

“What?” 

“This is where we’re going to be leaving you.” Dee didn’t want to be talking. She wanted to be trying to sneak up on the exam room again. She wanted to check on Trust. But she knew she would only be a distraction. Clint wanted her to work on setting Rachel at ease. 

“I thought… I thought we would be going to a house… This isn’t somewhere people can live.” 

Dee took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Silence ticked on around them. She reminded herself that she had a different experience with the Decimation than Rachel. She had known many horrors during the last five months but she had traveled. She had seen the extent of it through a great portion of the country. She had seen what it did to cities, towns, people and most importantly, to families. 

Rachel only knew what this small part of the country. She was a local to Kansas. She’d lived in the small town she had grown up in. Those who remained had banded together to protect themselves and their supplies. When King Jacob’s men had shown up and offered to absorb them at the cost of a minor tax, it was hard not to hear them out. It had seemed like a great way to gain more safety and support. The majority agreed to join with King Jacob, believing with all their hearts that they were doing what was best for the town.

They hadn’t expected that the minor tax would include most of their supplies. It had taken the King’s men looting the town for them to stand up and say enough. The result was only bloodshed and the kidnapping of most of the women and young boys. 

Dee had listened to a bit of her story while they had walked through the city, on their way to the truck. If that was what had happened here, she could only imagine what happened to those living within the expanding territory of King Mason. There were so many other self named 'kings'. How were they running their territories? 

Clint had mentioned that the reforming government was working with the self titled Kings on the East Coast. What were they like? How many people had they hurt? The idea made her sick.

“You can live anywhere, now. Zoning rules don’t apply.” It was a bad joke and Rachel didn’t laugh. “There’s a stove, generator, well water, rooms and beds.”

“Exam rooms and beds.” Rachel pointed out. 

“True. But the walls are thick and solid. It’s out of the way and you’ll be living with a nurse.”

“But-”

“We won’t make you stay. But this is where we will bring supplies and this is where we will leave you. The rest is up to you. But if you come and go from here, come back to get supplies and leave again- you could lead others here. It’s up to you.”

Rachel was silent for a moment. Finally, she opened her mouth to say something as Clint rounded the corner. Dee shot to her feet and rushed across the room, heart beating wildly in her chest. Her stomach rolled. Blood was smeared on his hands. Though she tried, she couldn’t make her voice work. 

“He’s okay.” Clint’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. It was everything she needed. “He’s okay.”

“Really?” Tears slipped down her face. She told herself it was dumb to cry over a dog but couldn’t stop.

“Sasha was able to remove the bullet. Stitched him right up. He got lucky, it missed everything vital. He may always have a limp though, it nicked his shoulder blade but she doesn’t have a way to cast it.”

“He’s going to be okay?” She asked again, as if he hadn’t already said he would be. 

“Yeah. Some pain meds for a few days. He’s going to be sore for a while.”

“He’ll be fine, assuming infection doesn’t set in.” Sasha added, rounding the corner. “I’d like to keep him in an exam room overnight to make sure he rests. We’ll offer food and water in a while when he’s fully awake.” 

“Why can’t he stay with us?”

“I don’t want him ripping the sutures. If he’s alone in a small room, he won’t be doing much moving around. Just for tonight, maybe some of tomorrow.”

“Hopefully he leaves them alone.” Clint grumbled. “I don’t exactly have a cone of shame in the truck.”

“If you could get one, that’d be best.” Sasha offered. 

“We’ll see.” Clint grumbled. His back was sore. His legs were sore. His head ached from lack of sleep and stress. “It’s not something that many would think to take and hoard at least. Shouldn’t be too hard to come by.”

“If you can, antibiotics and animal medications? Any literature they have as well- I’m a nurse, a people nurse. Not a vet. I’m playing a dangerous game of guesswork using what I’ve got on him.”

“Not likely on antibiotics. Most people know that they will need antibiotics if they get hurt. Most don’t know the names- they probably just shoved everything they could in a bag and called it a day. But a cone and maybe some books should be easy enough.” Clint didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to sleep. Still, Sasha was a valuable resource that was already paying for her keep. The least he could do was enable her to be a bigger resource. “I’ll go after we eat, swing by the farmhouse and load up supplies as well.”

“You will come back.” Sasha pressed. Though it wasn’t presented as an option or a question, it was. The way she twisted her hands and her eyebrows bunched together gave it away. She would have been a pretty young woman, before everything had happened. Clint would bet that as she came into her new life now, she would once again be a pretty young woman. 

“I will. You’ll have Trust so I have to. Can’t leave the mutt behind, now can I? Dee’d be heartbroken.”

Sasha nodded and turned. “You’re all probably hungry. I’ll see what I can make.” 

“Let me.” Dee insisted. 

“I’ll build up the fire.” Clint offered, dragging himself to the wood stove.

“But-”

“I’d rather you give Lizzy a checkup and her shots. Rachel could use a once over as well. We can make food while you do what we can’t.”

Dee made her way over to Rachel who was still huddled in the chair. “Sasha here is going to give you and Lizzy a once over, okay? If Lizzy is strong enough, she’s going to give her her shots.”

“Why?”

“The shots? Because we want to protect her from as much as we can.” 

“Herd immunity is questionable at best right now.” Clint added. It had been something that had been weighing on his mind. More than a few of Lauren’s mom friends had opted out of giving their snot goblins shots. They would give imaginary reasons full of made up science that only made sense on the most surface level. “Half the population is gone and antivax was gaining traction. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if there is a resurgence of most of the shit we gave shots for in the next decade. There may not be enough kids in some areas that had their shots, kids born now probably won’t get their shots for a while, if at all- large holes in a very thin herd.”

“I’ll give shots to any kid who needs them.” Sasha pointed out. “Other doctors, nurses still alive will too. We don’t want to see things like whooping cough and measles outbreaks becoming routine again.”

“You will. But others may only give it in exchange for food or supplies. Others still may hoard the vaccines, only giving them to members of their family or group. It’s a new world and you’ve got to stop thinking in terms of this being temporary.”

“But the Avengers, You’ll fix this.” Sasha pressed.

“No. We. Won’t.” Clint punctuated each word with the toss of a handful of twigs and kindling into the wood stove. “We- They tried. They failed. The grape that did this is dead. The stones are destroyed. It’s over and this is what’s left.”

“But-” This time it was Rachel that spoke up only to receive Clint’s glower. 

“But what? The world will come back to something that looks normal? Fat chance.” Clint directed his attention wholly to his task when he noticed both Sasha and Rachel shrinking back from his glare. “The Avengers are working with the government to re-establish order and rule on the east coast, moving west. They’re filling the government and military ranks.”

“That’s good then?” Rachel offered. Sasha had abandoned the room to prepare for the exams.

“Is it?” Clint scoffed as he took a long stick lighter from Dee’s offered hand. Before long, Sasha would have to light her fires with matches and then, learn to strike a fire with flint. It was one of the many ways people were not prepared to live a life like this. “They are absorbing the self titled rulers, naming them governors and mayors. Do you think King Jacob would have made a good mayor? That’s what he would have become, if they came and he still held the city. Sure, they’d require him to raise the standard of treatment of the people, give them freedom but still.”

“They can’t be. They’re heroes. That’s not-”

“It is. Tony’s got crippling PTSD and has all but given up. Thor’s busy doing whatever to settle his people. Bruce has locked himself in a lab. Nat and Steve are working damn hard to bring the government back damn near on their own but they are only two people. They can’t be everywhere and they can’t fill every spot. The Avengers you hold so dear are down to one super soldier and one very tired assassin.”

“What about you?” Rachel asked. “You’re still alive.”

“Am I?” Clint snapped, regretting it instantly as Dee draped a calming arm across his shoulders. 

“You are.” She whispered in his ear and he clung to that.

“I can’t support putting people like that in charge of other people's lives.” Clint said. 

Both he and Dee knew there was more to it, though they rarely spoke of it. Clint was bitter. He was angry. He blamed them. They failed to save everyone. He blamed himself, too. He wasn't there to have the chance to help, to fail with them. Now, he wouldn’t- no, he couldn’t help them put people like the self named King Jacob in power. 

He understood why they had to do it. He wouldn’t help but he wouldn’t stand in their way. Let the terrible king’s reign for now, someone would likely go through and kill them later. Someone like-

“Come on.” Sasha called out, ushering Rachel and the baby out of the waiting room with a clipboard in her hand and what looked like two charts. It was so normal that Dee couldn’t help but smile at the sight. If playing doctor made Sasha feel better, all the better. 

The fire crackled as Clint stacked a few large logs on top of the pile of flaming kindling and thick sticks. He waited for the first to begin catching before adding the next. 

“There are others like King Jacob.” Dee said. 

Though it was not a question, Clint answered. “Yeah. I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Can you really promise that?” Dee asked. “Our own government, your friends are allowing them to keep power and giving them authority.” 

“I won’t let them touch you.” Clint insisted. 

“Back in California, there was a man calling himself King-”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I never had a encounter with him. I’d hear him and his people on the radio, making announcements of their power or whatever. There were stations that resisted, TV and radio. One was taken over while on the air. People died. He isn’t a good man.”

“Bad people are going to rule the world, at least for a while.”

“They did before too, I think. It was just less obvious.”

Clint laughed, though the sound was bitter. “True enough. But there were others who kept them in check.”

“Like we did today?” Dee whispered. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She knew she was dancing around something but she couldn’t pinpoint what. It was something dark that didn’t want to be given voice. Perhaps it was evil. Perhaps it was madness. 

“Yeah.” Clint whispered. “Just like today.” 

“I’ll see what I can find for dinner.” Dee said.

With that, they turned away from the unnamed madness, leaving it hanging and powerless. If they didn’t look at it too long, maybe they could ignore the siren call. What would happen if they listened? What would happen if they gave it voice? What would happen if they took more power than they had now? What power could they have?

~~~~~<3

“Well, Lizzy seems to have gained a good bit of weight. She’s doing much better than that first day. Got her shots in. I’d like to keep her on the normal schedule for them, if possible.” 

Sasha’s voice cut through the room as they entered. The heavy smell of stew greeted them. It smelled heavenly and drew a rumble from her stomach. How Clint and Dee could manage to make something that smelled that divine with the food she had, she couldn’t imagine. Somehow, they did though and she couldn’t wait to dig in. 

“Everyone’s okay, then?” Dee called out, straightening her back. She’d been slumped over the stew, mixing the pot to keep it from burning. Clint was next to her, making something akin to flat bread on the stove top. 

“For the most part.” Sasha wouldn’t call Rachel healthy but she would admit she could be in worse condition. 

“There should be plenty to eat, at least.” Clint said, flipping the bread like disks when the first side was browned. “Grab bowls so we can eat up.”

The meal passed with soft words and long spells of silence. Sasha and Rachel both ate two bowls and many, many disks of bread. Clint wasn’t surprised. Sasha had looked to have been stretching her food. He couldn’t blame her. She had no real reason to trust that he would come back with supplies like he had promised. 

While they had been waiting for Sasha and Rachel, Clint had taken his time to poke around her supplies. She had some canned meat and a almost empty freezer. He had every intention of filling her freezer with meat and ice. He’d see to it that they could last a month between supplying trips, if they ever were unable to make the trip. 

Setting his empty bowl to the side, Clint stood up. “I’ll go grab supplies as promised before it gets too late.”

“You’re going to come back, right?” Sasha asked as if he had somewhere else to go with all the supplies. 

“Yeah.” He directed his attention to Dee. “That stew will taste even better tonight. When the fire burns down, throw it back on the stove to simmer.”

She nodded her agreement, pulling herself to her feet as Clint gathered his keys, boots and coat. As he stood from tying his boots, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. His arms crossed over her’s, his hands clasping around her’s. 

“Be safe.” She pleaded. 

“Always.” 

“Come back to me.”

“Always.” He promised again. “I will always come back to you.”

“I love you.” She whispered, as if it was a sacred secret.

Turning, he placed his hand on the side of her face. Fingers slipped into the strands of her hair as he brought his lips to her’s. The kiss was soft, sweet and chaste yet it was somehow everything she needed from him. “I love you, too.” 

After letting him go, she watched him slip into his coat. He checked his gun before pushing the furniture from in front of the door. As it closed behind him, she squeezed her eyes together. After taking two slow, deep breaths, she began pushing everything back in place. 

She wondered if it would ever be easier to watch him leave.


	32. What If?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Blood, death. Ya know, the usual.

Clint relished the silence in the truck for a few moments as he backed along the gravel driveway. The weeds and grass would encroach on it come spring but for now, it was a mix of ice and gravel mixed with snow. The tracks from his truck were the only ones and if they were lucky, that would remain the case. 

Spring would be upon them before they knew it. In much of the country, frozen bodies would begin to rot and a wave of sickness would spread. He wondered how many clusters of people were smart enough to take advantage of the cold to remove bodies. 

Not nearly enough, he was sure. No one wants to look at the dead, let alone touch them. Hell, he didn’t want to either. But when it needed to get done, it needed to get done. The sickness would kill many more if the dead were allowed to rot in the cities. It would be far better to be in a rural town during the warm months. 

How many more people will have died between now and spring? Food stores were likely low in most places by now. He knew he was having to travel farther and farther to find processed and packaged foods, giving proof to that fact. How many would starve to death this winter? So many would due to not knowing how to cook without the processed ingredients or how to store raw foods without a refrigerator. How many would eat toxic or spoiled food, not knowing how to tell what was safe to eat? How many wouldn’t know how to turn flour and yeast into bread? 

Those thousands were not his problem. His problem was limited to three other people and a baby. Shaking his head, he banished thoughts of infant formula away. It was a worry for another day. With enough food and Sasha’s help, Rachel would at least be able to supplement the formula with her own milk. Lizzy just needed to make it four or five more months. 

When he reached the open road, he stopped and waited. He sat there with his thoughts for half an hour and watched for any signs of life. There was no smoke from what could be other fireplaces. There were no other signs of people. It was exactly what Clint wanted to see. 

Finally, when he was sure enough that there was no one around, he pulled onto the old highway. It’d been mostly abandoned in the last ten years when a new interstate had routed near but the locals had still favored it. He had still favored it. 

Now, he was thankful for the interstate. Most migrating people would follow the interstates with their wide lanes, direct routes and clear signs. It would keep them away from his little hole in the country. 

Turning on the radio as he went, he hit the scan button. The radio searched through the airwaves, trying to find a signal. When it found none, he repeated the process with the AM frequencies. There was the same emergency broadcast, going in and out. It was weaker now. Clint was sure the emergency generator was finally giving out. 

As he pulled up to the gate, he thought about calling Nat. He thought about telling her what they did, that King Jacob was dead. He thought about telling her the things running through his mind. For a moment, he even picked up the satellite phone from where it had sat forgotten in the cup holder. He thought about asking her to come out, to pick him and Dee up and take them to New York.

Fingers dialed the number as he pulled up the hill. His thumb hovered over the button with the green phone. He only had to press it. 

His eyes looked up from the phone as he rolled to a stop in front of the house. He could see the motorhome and the chickens. He could see the shed that doubled as a year around grow room. He saw their life and instead of hitting the call button, he flipped the phone over. 

Without bothering to power it down, he pulled the back off and removed the battery before breaking the old style flip phone in two. He tossed the parts into the back of the truck when he got out. 

He couldn’t be like them. He couldn’t support people like King Jacob and King Mason being given power after they had hurt so many. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow it. 

As he fed the chickens and gave their coop and pen a quick clean, he wondered if that was what Dee had been dancing around. Would she go with him, if he set out to remove another abusive self named king from power? Would she think he was just a vengeful killer? Was he just a vengeful killer?

There were a good number of eggs in the coop and Clint was thankful for them. They were laying and earning their keep. Feeding chickens food scraps and getting eggs in return was far better than eating the chickens. He left a handful of eggs in the nests. If they were lucky, they would hatch. He picked up older eggs, saved for the same reason and marked with a black dot. Using the light of the sun, he checked them for signs of development and life. Inside, there was a shadow of something growing. Later, he would come out with a flashlight and look properly but that was good enough for now. 

The rooster Tony eyed him with disgust. Clint flipped the bird off as he walked into the house. The damned bird should be thankful he wasn't turned into fried chicken yet. Clint was all for using the male to breed the females and have enough chicken and eggs to eat some of both. There was only one rooster though and he worried about genetics. He'd have to eventually worry about finding someone else with chickens to trade and diversify the genetics.

In a cabinet above the refrigerator, he pulled down an empty egg carton and filled it. Laura had always talked about getting chickens when he had finished his countless projects to improve the house. She gathered cartons to remind him or annoy him, he wasn’t sure which. He never did finish the house for her. Even now, it was unfinished. Now there were chickens. 

From the deep freezer he grabbed bags of meat. Deer and turkey, mostly whole cuts though he had ground some scraps up. He didn’t pull much out- if it spoiled he didn’t want much to waste. He dropped the bags into a cooler he had partially filled with snow and ice.

He hoped that would work, if kept outside and in the shade, to keep the foods frozen and good for the winter. There was always the question of the weather. This winter had been different than he had seen in the ten years he’d owned the land.

Somehow, it was both colder and harsher than what was normal but it was also warmer. There was a layer of melted snow and ice sandwiched between snowfalls. More often than not, the sky was full of heavy dark clouds. He wondered how long it would take for the ash and dust to truly settle. 

He loaded up a box with bags of dried pasta and canned vegetables and fruit. On top, he set onions, a few potatoes and a handful of squash. He filled another box with apples, cans of pie filling and tossed on a few cook books. He filled large gallon bags with flour and sugar from their stores. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After putting everything in the bed of the truck and securing it, he made his way to the shed turned greenhouse. 

The plants inside looked to have been growing well. He had put the lights on a timer before they had left on the off chance that they’d be gone for more than a night. The fact that he had managed to convert the shed into a functional greenhouse was something he was proud of. 

Trees grew in large pots, waiting for spring when he would plant them outside. A few small buds grew on the branches of a few citrus trees. He fingered them as he passed. They hadn’t expected any fruit from the trees for at least a year. These buds would likely grow into fruits too small to eat, if they matured at all. 

Moving down the aisles, he pulled his knife from it’s sheath at his thigh. The tomatoes had grown well in the greenhouse and the vines of little cherry sized fruit were heavy and bright red. He slipped three of the vines into the box. There were a few zucchini. He hesitated for a bit before snagging two of the vegetables to add to the box. 

They were not thriving in the makeshift greenhouse. He knew once spring came and he transplanted them outside, it would be a completely different story. By summer they would have more zucchini than they would ever want to eat. That would be the case for many of the vegetables. Luckily, they would keep well enough in the cellar.

They would freeze or can much of the excess for the next winter. If they were lucky, next winter they wouldn’t have to fear where they would get their next meal. There was another reason he planted more than they needed was for trading. He held very little hope that nationwide supply systems would be functional by then.

There were many who would be suffering from lack of food this winter. Clint strived to make sure that they were not among them. They would have food- sure there would be an overabundance of some things and they’d get tired of eating the same foods but they would not be hungry. 

Still, he knew their supplies were thin when accounting for supplying Sasha through the winter. There was no doubt that to supply Rachel and Lizzy it would eat into their supplies. Clint would have to spend more time hunting to supplement what they were growing. Worse yet, he knew he would have to travel farther and farther each time he went out for supplies. 

Clint picked a few handfuls of strawberries and called that a day. Sure, there was more ready for harvest. There was food stored in the cellar and pantry but it wasn’t enough. If he had to pick between him and Dee starving or Rachel, Sasha and Lizzy starving, he would choose to keep his food. 

He loaded up the back of the truck before pulling himself into the driver’s seat. Rather than start the engine, he sat there thinking with his eyes on the barn. His thoughts swam. The desire to help someone warred with his desire to put himself and the woman he loved first. 

He grumbled. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. Finally, he rolled his eyes and signed. Opening the door, he slipped back out of the truck and stomped back to the barn. There was no one to witness his tantrum but that did nothing to stop him from throwing one.

He grabbed a large potted cherry tomato plant. The branches and stems slapped him in the face. While he carried it to the truck, all he could think about was how much the plant stank. He was never a fan of the smell of tomato plants. He slipped it into the floor space behind the passenger seat.

He went back to the barn and grabbed potted lettuce plants and berries as well. Whether Sasha had a green thumb or not, he didn’t know but at least they would have some sort of food growing. It wouldn’t be enough to support them. They wouldn’t be able to survive off lettuce, tomatoes and berries alone if he wasn’t able to supplement their supplies but it was something. 

The engine roared to life as Clint decided enough was enough. He turned around in the drive and made his way down the dirt road. The gate rolled open as he approached, mindful all the while of the pots sitting behind him. 

The first veterinary office he checked had the windows broken out. It was in a small town not too far from the farmhouse. There were days he’d woken up in this town, having spent the night prior in a delirious hunt for his wife and children. It had been a long time since he had visited this town.

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to be thankful that he hadn’t woken up like that since Dee joined him. She saved him from the memories and longing. She saved him as much as he had saved her. 

There were a few people who still lived in this little town, though they hid whenever he had been there. Part of him wondered what he had done in the night, lost in a delirium looking for those who he had failed. It must have been terrible, for them to hide from him. Still, he didn't mind that none came to greet him or question him. He would rather less people crawl out of the woodwork and expect him to help them. 

Glass crunched under his feet as he stepped over the broken window. Ice and snow covered the ground, obscuring the razor shards hidden in seemingly innocent ice. Slipping and falling here would easily be fatal. Judging by the dried or frozen blood pooled by the window, it already may have been for someone. Looking over to the left, Clint saw the man.

He must have been the one to break the windows in. Dead eyes gazed back at Clint. He didn’t look away from the sight. Frost had touched the man’s fingers and face. Ice and snow gathered over his legs, giving away the fact that he had been there for a while. The dim light of the setting sun flooded in through the broken window. He could see the trail of blood. Around his arm was a bandage, not wrapped nearly tight enough to slow the flow of blood and save the man's life. 

He retraced the man’s footsteps. Heavy boots thudded on the tile floor next to the dark trail. Clint followed it through the lobby. It smeared along the reception desk in dark stains and over scattered papers. On the floor was a first aid kit. The plastic was broken, shards of artificial red on the ground. 

That was where the man had gotten the bandage he had used to try and wrap his wounds. It wasn’t enough. Rolls of bandage littered the ground. He would have needed every one of them to have anything like a chance. Judging by the trail of blood, nothing would have been good enough other than a doctor though. The fact that he had made it as far as he did was impressive. Humans were always one of the most impressive beasts.

On the wall next to the reception desk there was a display of colorful plastic cones. Clint was sure they were the ‘deluxe’ cones the receptionists would try to up-sell. When his own dogs needed a cone, he always went with the cheap clear or white ones. The cone never stayed on long enough anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to shell out $30 for something that wouldn’t be on for even half the recommended time. 

He grabbed a handful of the large ones. There was no reason not to give Trust a deluxe cone experience. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his old dogs would have been more willing to wear one if he splurged the extra money for the nice ones. It was too late to know, the dogs had all died of old age. The one that remained turned to dust along with everyone else he had loved. 

The door into the treatment area was closed. Clint tried the knob, expecting to find it locked. The knob turned under his hand without the slightest resistance. 

“This is too easy.” He mumbled to himself, looking over his shoulder at the dead body. “Watch my truck, will ya? I should have done this first....” 

The last thing he wanted was to find the truck stripped of supplies when he came back out. He took a deep breath. His boots echoed on the tile floors as he made his way through the dark halls. A few dim lights shone, allowing him to see his way. The emergency power had to have been almost gone by now. 

Under one of the large procedure tables, there was an emergency bag. The bright red gave it away. He wasted no time in reaching down, plucking it up and setting it on the table. Inside, Clint found a flashlight but little else was useful. He pocketed the travel sized packets of pain medication and alcohol wipes, leaving the rest to someone in more need. 

Dust danced in the air as the beam shed light on the space. He listened for a moment, making sure he was alone. There was nothing but silence in the clinic. It didn’t sound like there was anyone messing with the truck either. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to pick up the pace. 

He skimmed bookshelves in offices, looking for any books that could double as ‘Veterinary Medicine for Dummies’. When he didn’t find one, he left the office. It wouldn’t do to waste time looking for books. Sasha was a nurse and would have to trust herself. 

He checked cabinets, breaking open doors when he encountered locks. It was a vet’s office, not a doctors or pharmacist and so the locks reflected that. The doors and locks both were weaker. No one expected someone to hit up a veterinary office looking for pain meds. 

Looking around, Clint found a grocery bag in a trashcan. It looked clean enough. Without giving it much thought, he dumped veils of medication into it. Some were in boxes, some not. Clint assumed the boxes had the drug information inside. If not, he wasn’t going to hunt for it.

When he checked the cabinets and emptied what he thought he could use, he grabbed the bag full of medications and made his way out. On his way, he reached down and snagged the emergency bag. No point in leaving something useful behind because he didn’t have an immediate need for it. 

Through the broken glass, he could see the truck looking just like he left it. There was no one else around, from what he could see. Having his eyes on the truck full of supplies was a relief. He allowed himself to relax just a bit. 

When he stepped through the window, there was a scream. Clint, in reflex he dropped the bags and screamed for a split second. While his throat tightened and cut his voice off after a fraction of a second. He reached out to the source of the surprise and grabbed them. While he intended to pin them against the way, he hadn’t intended to do so with so much force. 

His foot had slipped on the ice, carrying them both forward. The boy’s teeth crashed together with the force as he hit the wall. Clint caught his balance before crashing into the wall himself. The boy’s chest heaved and his eyes were wise.

“Please.” The boy begged and he was a boy. Clint would guess he was no more than 15. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to take anything. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“Yeah you were.” Clint grumbled as he let go of the boy after giving him a quick glance over. He appeared to be unarmed, underweight and dirty.

“I was. But I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m so hungry and there’s so much.”

“Are you alone?” 

“My gran- she’s at home.”

Clint sighed and looked at the boy again. He rolled his eyes and pulled from the box a bag of flour and a stem of tomatoes. It wasn’t a lot but it was something. After thinking for a moment, he grabbed a can of beef stew to add. “Take this. Water that stew down a bit and boil it with flour and you can stretch it farther. Good luck.” 

Clint didn’t look at the boy again as he grabbed his bags and tossed them into the truck. He refused to look at the now crying boy as he started the engine and pulled away. If the boy was lucky, he would make it to spring. More than likely, both he and his gran would be dead by then. Clint told himself he couldn’t care. 


End file.
